


Nothing, Everything

by SasuNarufan13



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Brief reference to threat of rape in the past, Doesn't follow the epilogue, Draco acts like a real arsehole for a good part of the story, Draco's POV, Drama, Established slash, Implied Violence, Implied mature content, M/M, Memory Loss, Mpreg, References to Minor Character Death, Torture, a lot of it, angst but with a happy ending, birthday fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-04
Updated: 2017-12-01
Packaged: 2018-11-08 21:02:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 76,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11089860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SasuNarufan13/pseuds/SasuNarufan13
Summary: Draco didn't sign up for this. Except, well, he did. He just can't remember it.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Belle_Lestrange101](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Belle_Lestrange101/gifts).



> Author's note: This fic - which was supposed to be a oneshot, but damn my brain - is dedicated to Belle A Lestrange, because it's her birthday today. Happy birthday, sweetheart! *hugs* I hope you'll like this angst fest :D
> 
> Keep in mind that for a large part of this story, Draco is going to act like a real arsehole. If I forget any warnings considering this chapter, please let me know and I'll add them.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

_Chapter 1_

A grey white ceiling.

A grey white ceiling that looked nothing like the pure snow white colour of the ceiling in his bedroom.

That was the first thing he noticed when he opened his eyes slowly; his temples throbbing with the vague memory of a serious headache and his mouth cotton dry.

So he wasn't in his bedroom. Most likely not in Malfoy Manor at all. Splendid.

Something shifting in his peripheral vision had him slowly turning his head and he stared straight into slightly widened, ice blue eyes.

_Mother._

"Mother?" he mumbled, voice scratchy and he winced, wondering how long he had been unconscious. "Where 'm I?"

"You're at Saint Mungos, my dragon," she said and rose up from her chair, tenderly brushing his hair back. "Give me a moment to call your Healer and the others. I'm glad you're awake."

He watched her stride towards the door and exit out of it; her heels tapping firmly against the tiled floor as she went to warn whoever else was here.

The hospital, huh? Why had he landed here? Had he been attacked? Furrowing his eyebrows, he tried to recall what had happened to him prior before waking up here. He had been walking through one of the side alleys near Diagon Alley with Blaise. They had been discussing an ancient potions tome they had found in one of the shops when … Hadn't three people completely hidden in cloaks shown up? They had been saying something about wanting to take revenge, get him back for the war and he could remember duelling them together with Blaise.

One of their spells had slipped passed his defensive shields, he realised, and had hit him. What had the spell done? As far as he could see and feel, he still had all his body parts and he found he could sit up without too much effort, so he wasn't paralysed either. Something must have happened, though, because why else would he be here in the hospital? For that matter, how long had he been here?

When the door swung open again, it revealed mother, father and Healer Silver, someone who had acted as the Malfoys' private Healer for years now. Draco imagined the hospital had put up quite a fuss before admitting the man; they didn't do well with people from outside intruding on their territory, but money still had quite some sway here.

"I'm glad to see you're awake, Mister Malfoy," Silver said, striding over and halting in front of the bed.

Mother and father followed at a more sedate pace, taking a seat on the chairs in front of the window and on Draco's left.

"How are you feeling?" Dark brown eyes studied him intently as Silver picked up the clipboard which contained, Draco presumed, his medical notes.

"I've had better days," Draco answered dryly; his voice still a bit scratchy. A glass of water entered his vision and he gave mother a grateful look as he sipped carefully of the cool liquid. It slipped down his throat pleasantly, like a Cooling Balm against a throbbing wound.

"A bit of a headache, but I feel fine overall," he continued, licking his lips absentmindedly to get rid of the remaining water.

"Do you remember what happened?" Silver inquired; his wand swishing back and forth slowly as he muttered spells underneath his breath. The tip of his wand glowed a faint rose, a dark purple, a soft gold and a pale green; each colour fading into the next one. Having never studied Healing or Healing Spells, the blond man had no clue what kind of magic the older man was using.

"I was attacked," Draco said slowly and his fingers twitched with the faint memory of gripping his wand tightly in order not to lose it. "By three people. Couldn't see who they were, but they attacked me and Blaise. Is Blaise all right?"

"He is," Mother said soothingly. "He was released yesterday. He only had a broken arm and some cuts."

"Yesterday? How many days has it been?" Draco asked befuddled, still a bit disoriented. At least his friend was fine; that was good to hear.

"Two days," Father answered quietly. His hand was clenched around the silver knob of his cane and his grey eyes were dark. "Blaise brought you in unconscious."

"Well, it looks like everything is in order," Silver announced, lowering his wand with a satisfied smile. "The headache is a result of you smacking your head against the ground when you fell down, but that should clear up soon. You had a few broken ribs and a nasty cut on your upper left thigh, but they healed perfectly. As far as I am concerned, you're free to go home, Mister Malfoy."

Before Draco could reply, the door opened again and grey eyes idly swivelled towards it, expecting another Healer or a Mediwitch coming to do her rounds. Instead Harry Potter stepped inside; hair a bit shorter than Draco remembered it being and his god awful glasses seemed to have finally perished and exchanged with a thin, silver pair.

"Sorry I'm so late," Potter apologised, looking sheepishly. Green eyes lit up when they landed on Draco and the younger man strode forwards, an odd look of relief plastered on his face. "I'm so glad you're finally awake!"

Draco blinked, taken aback by the comment. Why would Potter be glad to see him awake? He hadn't seen the man in months and while their last meeting had been rather amiable – at the very least there had been no insults and no curses flying around – there was no reason for the other man to act so familiar with him.

Why was he even here? Was one of his pesky friends admitted to the hospital and he had heard that Draco was here as well and decided to, what, pay a visit? Well, he had never claimed to understand what the dark haired man was thinking.

To his utmost bafflement, Potter sank down on the other remaining chair and leant forwards, grabbing one of Draco's hands in his. "How are you feeling?"

"Fine, I suppose. What are you doing here?" Draco asked perplexed, snatching his hand out of the too warm grip. What the fuck was wrong with Potter? Had he been hit with one too many stray hexes during the war?

"I was here earlier, but I had to get my check-up, remember?" Potter said ruefully, rubbing the back of his neck. "Otherwise I would have been here when you woke up."

And that didn't answer his question at all. What was the idiot blabbing about? "No, what are you doing here? Shouldn't you be off rescuing a damsel in distress or foiling the plans of a next Dark Lord?" Draco sneered.

Potter stared at him bemused and really, if anyone had the right to be confused, it was Draco, not bloody Potter. "I'm on desk duty for the rest of the year; you were the one insisting on it," he said slowly, staring at Draco as if he had lost his mind. "Said I shouldn't risk it and not even thinking about stepping out onto the field."

"Why the fuck would I tell you that?" Draco asked incredulously. "What do I care whether or not you're on desk duty? You might consider going back to field work actually, because clearly it isn't good for your figure, Potter; too much pastries?" he added with a sneer when he noticed the belly the other man was sporting. It wasn't a complete pot belly, but the rounded form could hardly be ignored through the tight shirt.

A confused and something akin to hurt look crossed Potter's face. "Draco, what …"

"I thought he only had a few broken ribs and some cuts?" Mother asked sharply; narrowed eyes regarding Silver coldly.

Draco stared at her confused. It was only now that he realised his parents hadn't remarked on Potter's presence, almost as if they were used to it. Well, his father didn't look particularly happy with Potter being here, but his mother was exchanging meaningful looks with the Saviour and when had that happened? How had he missed his mother getting cosy with the Boy-Who-Lived? Since when were they so familiar?

"The Diagnostic Charm only revealed those injuries, yes," Silver answered and narrowed his eyes in return; a frown cleaving his forehead in two. "Mister Malfoy, can you tell me your age?"

"Growing senile in your old age?" Draco sneered, hyper aware of the heavy, green eyes resting on him.

"Draco," Mother said sharply, regarding him warningly.

Barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, he answered bored, "Twenty-three."

"What is the last thing you remember?"

"Like I already told you: I was attacked by three people. Battled with them and one of their spells passed my defensive shields and hit me," he replied irritated.

"How have you been spending your life since the end of the war?"

Grey eyes narrowed dangerously. "I'm studying to become a Potions Master," Draco responded curtly. "Mind telling me what these questions are about? And why the hell Potter is here if he isn't going to take my testimony?"

Or why the man was acting so familiar with him, but he would take any answer he would get now as long as it made sense.

"Draco, you don't remember Harry at all?" Mother asked slowly, cautiously and a stricken look appeared on Potter's face.

"Of course I remember him," Draco scoffed and for a few seconds Potter smiled relieved, leaning forwards again. Draco's next words shattered his relief completely. "We went to Hogwarts together and fought on opposite sides of the war. Kind of hard to forget a git like that. Why are you calling him by his first name anyway?"

Judging by the solemn looks on his parents' and Silver's faces and the devastated look on Potter's – and what the fuck was up with that? – Draco clearly had given the wrong answer.

What the hell was going on?

* * *

Partial amnesia.

That was Silver's best guess as to what was wrong with Draco. He could remember everything, from his earliest childhood memories, to the spells and potions he had studied, to the horrible events of the war, to the studies he had taken on now to become a Potions Master.

However, he couldn't remember asking out Potter, being in a relationship with him and to make it even better, couldn't remember becoming engaged.

And the belly Potter was sporting now? Apparently he was pregnant. _Pregnant as in carrying Draco's child._ Had been for the past four months.

What on earth had happened to him that had made him decide to ask out Potter? Sure, the last time they had met – by running into each other in Diagon Alley – they had had a rather civil conversation, but that couldn't have been the basis for Draco's decision to date Potter. Aside from that, he didn't think he was gay; he had been intent on courting one of the Greengrass sisters and use that marriage as a way to get higher up in society again. While Potter had his own fame that was useful, marrying him wouldn't do Draco any good in the Pureblood circles, which were still quite conservative.

Despite his desire to drag the Malfoy name out of the mud, he had supposedly fallen in love with Potter?

When they had informed him of his relationship with the dark haired man at the hospital, he had laughed, so certain they were just yanking his chain, messing around with him.

They weren't. They were absolutely serious about it, adamant that he was dating Potter, even worse engaged to him, and the younger man was expecting his child.

Apparently he had been very excited about becoming a father – but for some reason he couldn't remember his relationship with Potter at all, let alone recalling that he was becoming a father soon.

Silver had theorised that perhaps the combination of the unknown spell of his attacker and his defensive shield had resulted in his loss of memory. Why he had only lost his memory of Potter, though, and nothing else was something the Healer couldn't explain.

He also couldn't say when Draco's memory would fully return or _if_ it would return. A heavy silence had fallen down in the room after that particular admission. The only advice Silver had given was be patient and surround himself with things from his past – or well, more accurately present – in order to jog his memory and kickstart his brain into restoring the missing parts.

So here he was now: standing in a cosy living room of the house he was supposedly sharing with Potter.

The whole house … it just wasn't him. No matter how he turned around, how many times he went into a room and back out of it again, stared at the furniture, the pictures on the walls … He couldn't recognise himself in them. Couldn't understand how he had ever been okay with buying that god awful dark purple couch with the stupid white, frilly throw pillows on it. Couldn't imagine how he had been happy to live in a house that was barely a tenth of Malfoy Manor.

Sure, the house wasn't as awful as the Weasleys' one – he very much doubted a house uglier than that existed – but it wasn't something he would ever have chosen for himself. It wasn't something he could envision himself growing old in. This house had nothing of the Malfoy Manor's grandeur; the rooms were small, much smaller than those of the manor, and the property wasn't as heavily warded as the manor was. It was somewhat isolated, at the edge of the quiet village with the backyard flowing right into a small forest, but noise of Muggle traffic still managed to filter through the wards if it was loud enough.

Draco was starting to wonder whether someone had hexed him into believing he wanted to be with Potter and live in this abysmal small house, because surely if he had been in his right mind, he would never have thought of approaching Potter in that manner.

This whole thing was just absurd and it made him want to return to Malfoy Manor and forget any of this had ever taken place. Nothing made sense.

"So I spoke to Ron and he's checking to see whether any cases similar to yours have popped up recently," Potter spoke from the doorway of the living room, eyeing him cautiously.

While Draco had wandered through the house, wondering what the hell he had been thinking all the while, Potter had remained downstairs, presumable to talk to Weasley.

"What's the plan if there aren't any similar cases?" Draco questioned idly, drawing closer to the hearth which sported several picture frames on top of it. There was one of the Golden Trio and the blond man snorted when he spotted the stupid grin on Weasley's face as he hugged Granger from behind with Potter's arm slung around his neck. Merlin, he hoped those two weren't procreating yet; the world had enough Weasleys in it already.

Another picture showed his Aunt Andromeda with a small, dark haired boy seated on her lap: his cousin twice removed, Teddy. He had met the boy a few times before when he visited his aunt with mother, but he supposed he probably had hung around a lot more with the boy if he was together with Potter. Teddy was Potter's godson, after all, so it made sense the child would be a regular visitor. Not that Draco could recall meeting Teddy a lot, but maybe the majority of those meetings had taken place with Potter and the memories of those were gone, just like the ones of his supposed relationship with Potter.

Grimacing at the thought, he quickly looked at another photo – the frame containing to his immense surprise a picture of his parents, who were smiling mildly back at him. So he really was living here then, if he even had a picture of his parents here.

Yes, being hexed before started to sound a lot more plausible.

"The same as it would be if there are similar cases: track down the ones who attacked you," Potter replied and his voice was oddly flat.

"How are you going to do that when you don't even have a description? They kept their faces hidden," Draco pointed out sceptically. He turned his attention to the last photo.

"Zabini gave us some information about their accents and where they attacked you, so two of my colleagues are currently sweeping the scene for magical traces," Potter explained and somewhere outside a dog barked in the distance.

"Don't think accents will do you any - " Draco cut himself off when he saw himself in the last picture, sitting next to Potter underneath a thick tree, laughing and kissing each other. A wave of revulsion suddenly washed over him and abruptly he turned around, not able to look at the picture for a second longer.

_See, I was hexed_ , he told himself, balling his hands into fists. _There's no way otherwise why I would give up a potential marriage to an influential Pureblood family for a Halfblood man._

"Every bit of information can be useful." Potter sounded like he was reciting it from a bloody textbook. A frown appeared on his forehead and he took a step closer. "Draco, are you okay?"

He couldn't do this. He couldn't keep standing here and pretend everything was normal, that he wasn't freaking out by all of this. He needed to get out.

"Where's my lab?" Draco asked abruptly, recalling that he had seen no decent lab in this house. There was the basement which seemed to be in the progress of turning into a private lab, but surely he couldn't have been spending his time there brewing his potions and studying them?

"It's at your parents' home, but what - "

Draco strode past him before he could finish his sentence and left the house without giving the other wizard a chance to stop him.

He just needed to be in familiar surroundings again; go back to a place that didn't make him feel like he was living the life of a complete stranger. He Apparated away, ignoring Potter's shout.

* * *

"All I ask is that you don't damage yourself by purposefully staying away from him," Mother said; a hint of resignation in her voice.

"Damage myself?" Draco snorted, placing the ladle next to the bubbling cauldron. "I doubt I'll be damaging myself by staying away, mother. They're just memories; they have no way of harming me." Narrowed, grey eyes studied the potion intently, waiting for the moment when it would turn a lavender purple.

"Healer Silver said it would be best if you surrounded yourself with familiar things," she remarked patiently; her hands folded in front of her as she stood in the doorway of his private lab.

He swept his arm around the room and smiled sardonically. "I'm surrounded by familiar things, don't you think so?"

She pursed her lips together. "You know what I mean, Draco," she retorted stiffly; her golden blonde hair glinting in the candle light.

He didn't reply, not in the mood for the argument that would surely arise if he told her he wasn't interested at all in being around Potter. Her claim about him having been happy with Potter was ridiculous; there was no way he would have chosen that git of all people if he had been in a completely sane mood. Maybe he should let himself be tested for curses which invoked the feeling of love.

A frown forming on his forehead, he returned his attention to the potion, nodding to himself as he saw the colour changing from a pale blue into a lavender blue. Good, that meant the potion was a success. Now he just needed to wait for it to cool down before he would pour it into the bottles.

"Draco, I know this must be confusing for you now, but I want you to try," Mother sighed. "As much as I love you, you can't remain here forever."

"I feel the love, mother," he riposted sarcastically, scowling down at the slowly bubbling potion before putting the fire out underneath the cauldron. "I'll go back tonight."

"Draco."

"Silver said it's best to return to my normal life as soon as possible; this is my being normal," he pointed out harshly; his fingers gripping the edge of the work table tightly until they turned a stark white.

A silence, heavier than any silence between them before, reigned in the room until mother sighed and approached him; her heels click clacking on the tiled floor. A slender hand was placed on his right shoulder and squeezed down.

"I'm glad you're okay," she murmured and pressed a soft kiss on his cheek before leaving the room silently.

A sigh left him and he sank down on the only chair in the room, rubbing his hands over his forehead. It was difficult to stay mad at his mother, especially when she said things like that. That didn't take away the fact that she was wrong about him and Potter, though. He didn't have a clue as to why he had ever decided to go after Potter, but he guessed it would be best to try to find the reason, if only to figure out a way to get out of this relationship so that he could choose a proper spouse. There was of course the matter of the baby, but that was an issue to be resolved at a later date. First he needed answers regarding their relationship.

Starting with the question: if he and Potter were engaged, where was his engagement ring?

* * *

"You got any work done today?" Potter asked neutrally; one finger tracing the rim of his glass while the other hand was slowly rubbing his stomach.

They had just eaten dinner. When Draco had finally dragged himself back to the house he shared with the other man, not finding any other excuse to linger at Malfoy Manor, he had encountered Potter in the kitchen, preparing dinner. His instinctive reaction had been to refuse the food when Potter had offered it, but he _had_ been hungry and annoyingly dinner had smelt incredible.

It had tasted very well, too, especially given the fact that the git had been horrendous at Potions back at Hogwarts.

"Finished some orders," Draco answered flatly, carefully avoiding looking at Potter's belly. He could only stomach so much weirdness in one day and he wasn't ready yet to contemplate the idea that he would be a father at the end of the year.

"I went back to the office for a few hours," Potter said cautiously and the blond made a non-committal sound, keeping his eyes averted to the window. "Kelly and Matthew, the Aurors who swept the scene for magical signatures, were done with the check-up. They picked up the traces, but so far we have no match yet. Ron and I are going to look for a link with other cases tomorrow."

"Splendid," Draco said blankly. Certainly he wanted those bastards caught and in Azkaban, but he doubted they would be able to find them unless they attacked another person. It would have been one thing if Draco or Blaise had been able to give a description, but without knowing how they looked like, it would be like searching for a needle in a haystack.

"So, eh," Potter tapped his fingers on the table, looking awkward, "do you, maybe, have any questions or so?" He licked his lips; his glasses glinting in the setting sunlight.

"Like how the hell we ended up together?" Draco snorted harshly and shook his head, ignoring the wince of the other wizard. His mind flashing back to the engagement news, he decided to ask, "If we're engaged, where is my ring? You're wearing one after all."

The ring around Potter's finger was thin and silver with a line of small emeralds embedded on it. If this entire situation wasn't so strange, he would have find it amusing that Gryffindor's Golden Boy was wearing something that was essentially Slytherin coloured.

The dark haired man looked befuddled at first before his gaze flitted down to his own ring and comprehension crossed his face. He looked up again with a smile. "Ah, the Healer told me he had removed yours after you were brought in to prevent the Healing magic from potentially reacting badly to it."

Well, that did make sense. Some spells interacted quite badly when they encountered metals, so it had been prudent of Silver to remove his ring.

"He actually gave it to me this morning when you were being discharged," Potter continued and made a motion as if to rise up from his chair. "I can go get it for you." Hope lit up green eyes.

"No thanks," Draco replied curtly, not in the least bit interested in wearing the ring.

Potter deflated visibly, disappointment flitting across his face and Draco sneered; how was this man supposed to be a competent Auror if his face was that open?

The green eyed wizard cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable, and said slowly, "I was wondering … About tonight, you can still sleep with - "

"I'm going to sleep in the guest room," Draco interrupted him, grimacing slightly. His skin positively crawled at the idea of sleeping next to Potter; he really needed to find a way to get out of this farce of a relationship soon.

Potter was taken aback, staring at him wide eyed. "Eh, well, I suppose you're probably still getting used to this. But maybe we could - "

"Good night, Potter," Draco said briskly and left the room; whatever Potter had wanted to say, died on his lips.

Ignoring the eyes burning in his back, Draco disappeared into the hallway, up the staircase and stepped into the second room on the right, which he had discovered was a plain bedroom, meant for guests – or maybe even Teddy, judging by the wayward stuffed dragon he found wedged between the bed and the wall.

Tomorrow he would visit Blaise, see how his friend was doing, and try to figure out what to do next.

That goal firmly implanted in his mind, it was relatively easily for sleep to catch him.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I'm pleasantly surprised by the amount of reviews I received for the first chapter. I'm not complaining in the slightest LOL
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and the comments! 
> 
> Warnings: nothing special aside from angst, but that's a given for this story
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like this chapter!

_Chapter 2_

Blaise whistled lowly, leaning back in the leather chair as he stared at his friend. "So you don't remember being with Potter at all?" he asked astonished.

"That's what I just said," Draco said snippily, accepting the glass of iced tea that one of the Zabini house elves handed over. He hadn't noticed any house elves in the house yesterday and he assumed that was Granger's fault, recalling her fighting for the house elves' rights. Annoying bint.

"Well, that makes things awkward I guess," Blaise murmured; eyes half lidded as he supported his head with his left hand. "Did the Healer say when you're likely to get your memories back?"

"No, he just said to be patient," the blond man snorted, crossing his legs. A Zabini ancestor, a beautiful dark haired woman, regarded him with interest from her spot in the portrait; a faint smirk playing around her lips. "He doesn't even know whether I'll be getting my memories back at all. You haven't lost any memories?"

"None as far as I am aware of, but I didn't get my head smacked against the ground either," his friend, older than him by one month, mused aloud. "If I have forgotten about a lover, then they haven't shown up yet," he added dryly. "It's strange how you've only forgotten about your relationship to Potter, though." Dark eyes regarded the blond wizard intently.

"Maybe they're doing me a favour," Draco sneered, taking a sip of the lemon tea, before placing the glass on the table in front of him.

A dark eyebrow rose up. "Why do you think that?"

"Oh please, you can't honestly tell me you think this relationship between Potter and me is logical," Draco retorted incredulously, rolling his eyes. "I was planning on courting one of the Greengrass sisters – why on earth would I waste such an opportunity to fuck around with Boy Wonder?"

"I wasn't in the country when you started dating Potter," Blaise replied. "When I returned you were already together for five months and you looked happy. Pansy thought it was disgusting how sappy you two were around each other actually. Said you gave her parents a run for their money."

Draco grimaced; a foul taste coating his tongue at the thought of being 'sappy' with Potter. Really, what the hell had he been thinking? "So you don't know why the hell I suddenly went after Potter?"

"No clue, sorry. Unlike Pansy I'm not interested in the romantic liaisons of my friends," Blaise snorted; amusement underlining his voice. The mirth disappeared quickly when he continued, "I'll tell you this, though, Draco: despite what you may think now, you _were_ happy with Potter. You two fit, as odd as that may sound."

Draco didn't deign that worthy of a verbal reply and only glared at the one who was supposed to be his best friend and therefore _on his side._

Blaise shrugged, too used to the Malfoy glare by now to be really affected by it. "Just saying: don't ruin what you two had – or have – by acting like a prick now. You're only going to regret it once you have your memories back."

Who said Draco wanted them back? "If I want your advice, I'll ask for it," he snipped.

Blaise sighed, rolling his eyes. "Just don't do anything stupid, okay? This wasn't just a fling: you're engaged and expecting a baby. Now's not the time to start acting like a prat again."

Clearly if he wanted support, he would have to go look elsewhere for it.

* * *

"Most people take a few days off work after being in the hospital."

Draco cursed as he startled and accidentally dropped the chopped bark in the potion all at once instead of piece by piece. He brought up a shield around the cauldron just in time for the potion to release a huge cloud of deadly fumes, which turned the colour of sickly dark green. The fumes slammed against the golden shield, which sparked and sputtered but held, and after a few tense seconds the fumes were absorbed the shield, dissolved and turned into regular air.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to disturb me when I'm brewing?" he snarled through clenched teeth as he whirled around and came face to face with the person who had just caused him to ruin his updated version of the Bone Mending Draught.

Pansy didn't even have the grace to look embarrassed. Instead she just looked at him unimpressed and flounced further into the lab; her dark blue robes swishing across her legs. "You should be resting," she scolded him, leaning back against an empty work table.

"I'm not injured anymore," he said irritated, turning back to the ruined mess in the cauldron. There was no way he could salvage that; instead of a gentle rose, thick syrup, it was a hardened, black mass which resembled a stone more than syrup.

Resisting the urge to hex the annoying woman behind him, he pointed his wand at the cauldron and banished the mess to a lake two miles away from Malfoy Manor. The lake contained some creatures which were quite fond of the ruined potion attempts.

"You still haven't regained all your memories," she snapped. "That counts as injured to me."

"Who told you about my missing memories?" he demanded to know, before realising there was only one person who could have informed her. "My mother," he muttered and scowled.

"She's worried about you," Pansy said lightly.

"It's not like I'm missing huge chunks of my memory," he retorted annoyed, casting a couple of spells which would thoroughly cleanse the cauldron.

"No, you just don't remember your fiancé, who's carrying your child to boot, at all," she snorted and when he looked back at her, he saw she had crossed her arms in front of her chest and was frowning.

"Can we not?" he groaned, sinking down on the chair. "I'm not in the mood to discuss this again."

"Have you even tried to talk to him yet?"

"We talked yesterday," he replied airily.

"I mean really talked, Draco," she said exasperatedly. "You know, about your relationship?"

She received a glower as answer.

"I take it you haven't," she sighed.

"What's there to talk about?" he asked rudely.

She stared at him incredulously. "Oh, I don't know; maybe about how you're going to do things now that you're missing your memories? Like trying to make new memories instead in case yours don't show up anymore? Getting to know him again?"

"Why would I do that?" he questioned scathingly.

"Did you not hear me just now? Did the attack damage your hearing too?" she sneered; eyes glittering. "He's your fiancé, for Merlin's sake! You're expecting a child together! Those two reasons aren't good enough for you?"

"I don't know why the hell I decided to get engaged to him or why on earth I thought having a child this early was a smart idea. I don't remember a fucking thing about us, Pansy," he bit out. "So far both mother and Blaise have been telling me that I was happy with him, but I can't see why! We've always been enemies; why the hell would I ever have decided to change that?"

"Look, I don't know why exactly you decided to date him - "

"Oh, now there's a surprise!"

"But the point remains that you were indeed happy with him! I've never seen you so happy before, Draco, and I don't want you to screw up that happiness by acting like a total git now," she snapped.

"I've only been out of the hospital for one fucking day – can't you all give me at least some time to adjust before you're getting on my case for not immediately being all fucking lovey-dovey with Potter?!"

His outburst echoed through the lab, tinged with anger and frustration, and some of the more delicate vials shivered before stilling. Breathing heavily, he turned back around to the cauldron, knowing that if he glared at Pansy for a second longer, he would curse her.

For a while neither of them said anything.

Why was everyone so adamant that he spoke to Potter? Did they think that talking to the git would miraculously bring his memories back? Newsflash, he had talked to the idiot yesterday and nothing had happened. As far as Draco was concerned, he would be happy to not have anything happening at all. His missing memories were only about Potter and their relationship – nothing vital that would harm him or hurt his chances of getting higher up in society if he never regained them. He would be able to live his life without any problems, even if his memories never returned.

It wasn't as if he would be losing out on much if his memories stayed lost. No matter what anyone said, he _knew_ he and Potter weren't a perfect match. Never mind the fact that they had been rivals for as long as they had known each other – Potter was a _guy_. Draco had never entertained any thoughts of being interested in a bloke and even if he had, Potter would have been the last wizard he would ever consider dating or fucking.

To think that apparently he had been stupid enough to not only date and fuck the git, but to also knock him up … Disgust filled his stomach like a leaden ball.

No, as far as he was concerned, his three attackers had done him a favour by making him lose those memories. Now he could start with a blank slate and actually go looking for a suitable spouse. There was the matter of being engaged and expecting a baby, but …

"I'm sorry, Draco," Pansy broke the silence; her voice small with regret. "You're right; you're just out of the hospital and I shouldn't be pushing you to act like everything is normal. You know I care about you, right?"

"I know," Draco said and sighed softly. He realised she meant well, but that didn't take away the fact that he didn't appreciate her being pushy and nosy.

"It's nearly lunch time – what do you say about having lunch with me in the new restaurant that opened in Diagon Alley?" she suggested; tone purposefully light-hearted.

He raised an eyebrow.

"I'll pay," she insisted; a slight pout lingering around her mouth.

"Fine." He rolled his eyes and stood up. "Not like you're going to leave me alone otherwise."

"Careful, Draco, or you'll become as grouchy as Snape was," she retorted in a sing song voice and cackled, ducking neatly when he threw an Itchy Burn Hex at her.

Not for the first time he wondered why he put up with her. Maybe too much exposure from when he was a child.

* * *

He managed to avoid Potter for a week by getting up earlier than the Auror and remaining in his potion's lab until very late – ignoring his mother's heavy gaze every time he left Malfoy Manor. He was content to ignore the younger man forever if need be, but of course his luck couldn't last that long.

When he came downstairs into the kitchen on Thursday morning, he was rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, going over the potions he needed to brew today. He had almost walked straight past the man, but Potter shifted slightly and the movement attracted his attention. Abruptly he froze and stared at the dark haired man, who gazed back with a hint of unease lurking in the depths of those dark green eyes. He didn't look all that well; he looked rather pale and haggard with bags underneath his eyes. He was sitting rather slumped at the kitchen table with his hands wrapped around a mug of coffee, only dressed in a loose, white shirt and some pyjama trousers.

"You're up early," Draco remarked carefully, backing away to the counter where he filled his own mug with coffee.

"Can say the same of you," Potter replied quietly; his voice rather rough.

"You look like shit," the blond man commented callously.

"Being nauseous for a few hours and throwing up will do that to you," Potter retorted dryly. "The morning sickness wasn't completely gone as I hoped it to be."

Draco hummed in lieu of not knowing how to respond to that and hid behind his coffee, sipping carefully from the hot liquid, as he lounged against the counter, trying to decide whether to eat breakfast here or have one of the Malfoy house elves bring him some.

"I haven't seen you in a while," Potter mentioned carefully; his eyes too wide for his narrow face.

"A lot of orders that need to be finished," Draco answered curtly. Probably easier to just have one of the house elves bring him some breakfast; at least then he was guaranteed that the food would be good.

"How, eh, how are you doing?" Potter bit his lip, slowly releasing his death grip on his mug.

"Fine; like usual," the blond wizard replied flatly, lowering his own mug somewhat.

"That's, that's good." Potter nodded decisively and licked his lip. "You know, it's a good thing I didn't miss you today. Matthew, you know, my colleague, wants to speak to you."

"About what?" Draco questioned warily.

"He wants to go over your testimony again."

"I already told you guys everything I could remember."

"I know, but he still wants to go over it with you again. See if maybe you remember something else."

"I don't."

"You never know," Potter insisted stubbornly. "It wouldn't be the first time a witness remembered a new detail when talking to an Auror."

"Rest assured, I'm not going to be - "

"Either you come with me to the office today or Aurors will show up at your lab," Potter interrupted him and while his voice was calm, even leaning towards quiet, the underlying meaning didn't escape Draco and he glared at the other man.

Aurors showing up at Malfoy Manor, even when father had been free for a year already, wouldn't be good for their reputation at all. News like that tended to travel awfully fast, even if the Aurors weren't there to arrest anyone.

Potter raised his hands in the air. "Not my call, but it is what's going to happen if you don't come with me," he defended himself.

"Not much like a choice, is it?" Draco retorted bitterly.

"It is a choice – just not a very good one," the dark haired man admitted and rose up from the chair, abandoning his cup. He stretched out his arms, his shirt rising up slightly to show the slightest hint of his rounded belly and Draco hastily averted his eyes.

"I'm going to take a shower before we leave," Potter murmured and after casting an unreadable glance at the blond man, he left the kitchen; bare feet padding silently on the floor.

Grey eyes turned to scowl at his half empty mug. Great, there went his blissful Potter free week.

* * *

"I don't think I'll be of much help," Draco stated immediately as soon as the door fell shut behind him.

He and Potter had travelled to the Ministry using the Floo network – Potter had looked remarkably green by the time they were done spinning and exiting the fireplace and for a moment Draco had expected him to throw up. No food had been regurgitated, thankfully, and they had made their way to the Auror department, where they had been greeted by a young, blond haired man with light blue eyes, who had introduced himself as Matthew Caley. He was one of the two Aurors who had checked the scene for magical traces.

Caley had led him to his office, while Potter slipped into his own, throwing what Draco thought was supposed to be a reassuring look.

"You never know," Caley said lightly, crossing the room to his desk.

The office was rather spacious, having enough space for two desks and three bookcases without it coming across as cluttered and small, which led Draco to think that this Caley and his partner had to be on a rather high Auror rank in the hierarchy.

At the moment Caley's partner wasn't present yet.

"When Kelly and I did the sweep, we picked up a rather high amount of animosity in the signatures," Caley started, picking a file from the top of the pile on his desk and opening it. He beckoned Draco to come closer, gesturing towards the chair in front of the mahogany desk. "So we're pretty certain that the attack was revenge oriented and not simply random."

"I'm afraid that won't really narrow it down much. I don't have a shortage of enemies," Draco smiled thinly, taking the offered seat after a pause.

Blue eyes regarded him keenly. "No, I don't think you have," Caley replied calmly with none of the sneering Draco had expected him to use. The Auror sat down as well, tapping a finger on the file. "Which makes it even more important that we catch them before they decide to attack you again. You were lucky once before, but it's best not to try that luck twice. One of the first things we'll have to determine is whether the revenge was solely focused on you or whether they're aiming to attack other people as well. Harry and Ron are working on trying to find links in cases we've seen before, but given the amount of cases we have, that's not going to be easy."

"I'm not sure whether I can help you. I haven't seen their faces at all, so I can't give a description," Draco remarked, a tad annoyed that he had to repeated himself again.

Were all Aurors this obtuse or was it just his lousy luck?

"While having a facial description would be the easiest," Caley admitted with a wry smile, "there are other ways to describe someone. What kind of clothes they wore, their height and weight, the type of wand … Even unusual details like an odd voice or a special kind of scent. Anything really that pops out and could be a way to identify them in a crowd. You'd be surprised at how many cases we've managed to solve based on one small detail."

"Fine, let's do this," Draco grumbled, settling back into the chair. "The sooner we're done here, the sooner I can get back to work."

"I appreciate your cooperation," Caley replied dryly and selected a blank piece of parchment. He dipped the tip of his quill in the inkwell and looked expectantly at Draco. "Give me everything you can remember about them, even if the details seem stupid to you. Every bit of information can be used."

Draco checked a sigh and reminded himself that losing his temper in the Ministry wouldn't be a good idea. "All three of them wore dark blue robes," he started, drumming his fingers on the arm of his chair as he recalled the battle again. "Two of them were around my height, but one of them was a bit shorter and had wider shoulders. Unless they used a special spell to change their voices, they're all men."

And so he continued, describing their built, the way they had moved, – the shorter one had walked with some kind of limp – the sound of their voices (one of them had sounded quite gruff, as if he had been smoking his entire life) and the spells they had used. He couldn't remember what kind of wand they had used, but figured he could be forgiven for that considering he had been more occupied with defending himself.

"That's all I can remember," he concluded after he had recounted the exact words the three attackers had used.

Caley uttered a noise of satisfaction as he leant back in his chair; his eyes gliding over the parchment as he reread what he had written down. "That's more than enough, Mister Malfoy. You've been a great help. If you don't mind, would you be willing to send me a list of anyone who could have had the motive to attack you?"

Draco raised an eyebrow. "How about almost the entire Wizarding World?" he retorted sarcastically; the corners of his mouth pulled downwards.

Caley grimaced, rubbing a hand over his chin where the barest hint of a scruff was visible. "Perhaps I worded it wrongly," he said begrudgingly and sighed, placing the parchment back down. "Let me rephrase myself: can you give me a list of people you personally suspect would have a reason to attack you? Maybe someone you have angered in the last few months or someone who's jealous of your business? Anyone in particular who stands out to you."

Draco pursed his lips together and nodded slowly; his mind already quickly going through the names of the people he had spoken to in the last couple of months. "I'll see if I can come up with someone in particular."

"All right, then you're free to go," Caley smiled and stood up, reaching out with his hand. "Have a good day, Mister Malfoy."

"You too," Draco murmured, shaking the Auror's hand and left the office –

Only to almost walk into a blonde woman. Instinctively he reached out to steady the witch and when she raised her head surprised, he inhaled sharply as he realised he was looking at Astoria Greengrass.

Her chestnut brown hair fell in soft curls down her back and her large, blue eyes gazed at him surprised before she smiled demurely and took a step back.

"Sorry about that," he apologised. "I wasn't expecting anyone to be right behind the door."

She laughed; a gentle sound that relaxed him. "Don't apologise; it's my fault, really. I wasn't looking where I was going." She looked past him at the closed door of Caley's office and furrowed her eyebrows slightly. "Everything okay?"

"Yes, I was just in there to give the Aurors some information about a case," he answered; his nose picking up the scent of roses. "I haven't seen you in a while. May I be so bold as to ask what you are doing here?"

"Oh, I'm here to - "

"Draco?"

Truthfully Draco had expected to see Potter when he turned around, but instead he came face to face with Millicent Bulstrode, dressed in the Unspeakables' robes. Her brown eyes studied him carefully before they switched over to Astoria.

"It's been a while since I last saw you," Millicent greeted him and came closer; her jaw still heavy set.

"I'm sorry, I have an appointment to reach on time," Astoria smiled apologetically at Draco and briefly placed her hand on his. "It was nice to see you again, Draco. Miss Bulstrode," she added with a nod to the older woman before striding off, deeper into the department.

"You look well," Millicent observed; her eyes still studying him critically.

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" He quirked an eyebrow, tearing his gaze off Astoria's retreating figure.

"Your visit to Saint Mungos comes to mind," she replied mildly.

"My, news travels fast," he murmured irritated.

"It always does when one is associated with Harry Potter."

Ignoring her comment for now, he asked, "What are you doing here, Millicent? Aren't you working for the Unspeakables?"

An Auror passed by them with a bunch of files clenched against his chest, barely sparing them a glance as he hurried past them.

"I am, but occasionally our two departments work together," she answered calmly. From somewhere in her robes she procured an odd looking silver ball, in which a dark cloud like mass was slowly twisting and turning, occasionally flashing when it bumped against the inner walls of the ball. "The Aurors found this instrument when they searched the home of one of their suspects and asked us to examine it. I'm here to bring them the report about it."

She cocked her head. "You're here for your own case?"

Grey eyes narrowed with wariness. "What makes you think that?" he asked evasively.

She offered him a dry look. "Potter conferred with some of my colleagues last week, asking whether there's magic that is meant to target specific memories and remove them without having to use Legilimency or Obliviating people."

"And why would his question have anything to do with me?" he questioned airily, though begrudgingly he was a bit impressed by Potter's inquiry. Most people thought only Legilimency or Obliviation spells could remove memories; Draco, however, knew that he hadn't been Obliviated – Blaise had attested to that – and the blond wizard would have felt it if someone had tried to get past his Occlumency shields.

She rolled her eyes, breaking the aura of mystery she had adopted after starting to work with the Unspeakables. "Because it is well known that Potter dislikes the Unspeakables. If one of his cases require our help, he sends someone else to talk to us. That is why I made the connection between the case he's working on now and you. The only reason he would willingly work with us is if it leads to helping someone he cares about."

"Well, aren't I one lucky guy," Draco muttered darkly. He paused and studied Millicent in return who raised an eyebrow questioningly. Quickly he raised a Privacy Bubble around them and inquired, "How much do you know about the relationship between me and him?"

Brown eyes blinked, clearly taken aback by the non sequitur question. "Not much," she replied honestly. "It's not like we go out for drinks every week."

"Do you know how we started dating?" His heart started pounding a little bit faster. It was probably stupid to expect a real answer from Millicent. While they had an amicable relationship, they had never been best friends and she would be the last person he would confide in. They simply didn't know each other well enough to be really classified as anything but friendly ex-classmates.

If she thought the question was weird, she didn't show it. Instead she cocked her head slightly to the right and stared at him contemplatively. "I don't know the details," she said eventually. "We're not that close after all. All I know is that you started dating around a month after you both had been taken captive by a Dark Wizard."

_Wait, what?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: Just in case: Draco is going to act like a bastard for quite some time in this fic, so don't expect fluff anytime soon *coughs*
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> I see you all in the next chapter!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: A bit later than planned, but I still had to finish it today *grimaces*
> 
> IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT: My apologies, but from now on this story will be updated every two weeks. The reason for this is because I need more time to work decently on this story and with a few other ongoing projects and real life in general, updating this story weekly would get quite difficult now that I don't have any pre written chapters anymore. Basically I need more time to work on my projects and I don't want to deliver half arsed chapters. So I'm sorry for this, but in order to avoid delays, I'll be updating this bi weekly and the update day will move to Friday.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and the comments!
> 
> Warnings: references to a minor character death; nothing else in particular as far as I know
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

_Chapter 3_

Draco had always thought it was ridiculous and a waste of valuable space to keep every edition of the Daily Prophet, including the Special Evening and Sunday issues since the start of the newspaper in 1743. Especially because the Prophet couldn't always be trusted to deliver the correct news and was quite biased at times.

"They who have the influence and the money run the Prophet," Great Aunt Elisabeth had once said mockingly and she hadn't been far from the truth. One often had to skim and read between the lines to get to the real truth.

As it stood, this newspaper was Draco's chance to discover how long he and Potter had been captured and why. Most importantly – but something he doubted he would discover in the articles – he wanted to find out why he had started dating the younger man a month after they were released. What had happened during that particular time that would have changed their minds about each other? He realised that it would probably be easier if he just asked Potter what had happened, but he didn't trust the man to give him the full account. It would be just like Potter and his bloody Gryffindor sentimentality to embellish the story and make it sound more romantic than it was.

Draco snorted derisively as the doors of the private Malfoy library swung open soundlessly, revealing the magnificent room with its sparkling floor and large windows, its large bookcases forming rows on the left and right side and filling up the walls until the ceiling. Two large arm chairs in which one could sink in easily and sit comfortably were waiting in front of the fireplace, a small round wooden table in between them. Two large, square tables had been placed in the middle of the room on the right and the left and each held six seats. The woodwork gleamed in the light, proof that the house elves did their best to keep everything in order and clean.

At the end of the room, hidden from sight by a large bookcase containing old diaries, there was another room; the entrance of it blocked by a pure white door, which blended in with the white walls. Only people who knew the location of the room would be able to distinguish the door.

This particular room contained every edition of the Prophet, but Draco had yet to figure out why his ancestors had thought it was important to disguise the door as part of the wall. It wasn't as if the room harboured important family heirlooms; only rows and rows of shelves containing the newspapers, separated by year.

Shaking his head, Draco crossed the library, passing a house elf who was carefully dusting off some books, but stopped to bow momentarily when the wizard walked past him. Grey eyes spotted the door immediately and the doorknob gave away easily underneath his hand; the door opening silently. This room was less magnificent as the library, more used as a storage room for the newspapers and not meant to be seen by many people, but it was still beautiful in its own way.

At the moment Draco wasn't interested in admiring the room and instead made a beeline to the shelves containing the editions of three years ago. He couldn't recall when exactly he had started dating Potter and he only had a very vague recollection of having been captured. One would think he would definitely recall being kidnapped, but he assumed his fractured memory of that time had something to do with Potter being there. That still didn't explain why he could perfectly well recall their encounters throughout their schoolyears and even two years after the war – up until he was captured actually – but so far not much had made sense.

His vague memory of being kidnapped and Blaise's mention of not having been present when he and Potter got together, however, provided him with enough hints to seek out the right month and start looking through the editions there.

It had happened a week after his twentieth birthday, right when he had left the wards of Malfoy Manor on his way to meet up with Pansy. He had to look through the papers on a lower shelf, kneeling down to make it easier on himself.

The first mention of his disappearance he found in the newspaper dated two days after he was taken. It was a rather small article, pushed back to the tenth page, which just said that the Malfoy heir had disappeared and that Aurors were on the case. Draco sneered, dropping the paper next to him on the floor. It figured that they wouldn't have spent much attention on his kidnapping – why care about someone who had been convicted as a Death Eater?

However, the newspaper bumped up his disappearance to the front page another two days later when they had heard that Potter had taken up the case. He stared down sourly at the picture of Potter elbowing his way through the mass of reporters before slipping into the elevator. There weren't much leads mentioned in the article accompanying the picture – either there had been few leads or the Aurors had kept quiet about the majority of them.

Things picked up a week and a half after he had been taken. The Prophet reported rather panicked that Potter had been captured on his way home and the Aurors wouldn't release any information, not even to state whether Potter's disappearance had something to do with the case he had been working on.

The Prophets following those still kept up with Potter's disappearance – and with Draco's, albeit his received only a few lines each time – every day, but not much news was added to the articles. The reporters started speculating, trying to guess what a Dark Wizard wanted to do with both an ex-Death Eater and the Saviour of the Wizarding World. The speculations ranged from their disappearances just being coincidence, a matter of being at the wrong time at the wrong place, to dark rituals which required someone from the Light and Dark side. Some thought it had something to do with revenge for the war; others thought the perpetrator was going after well-known figures in society.

Nobody knew exactly what the Dark Wizard was planning to do, because no letters with demands had been either sent to the Ministry or the Malfoys. Slowly, as the days passed by without news of either man the reporters started wondering whether they had died and demanded the Aurors to tell them what was going on.

The Aurors refused, saying they didn't want to mess up the investigation.

Three weeks after Draco had been whisked away, he and Potter emerged suddenly. The picture – blazoning right in the middle of the front page, taking up the majority of the available space – showed them both supporting each other, their robes more rags than clothes and streaks of blood coated their faces and hands. Potter looked grim and exhausted, his wand dangling in his right hand, and Draco looked dead on his feet.

Draco had expected to remember something, anything from that particular period by staring at the picture, but nothing. There were some vague stirrings of him and Potter stumbling out of a cellar, the putrid smell of blood and gore lingering around them, as they made their way outside. But that was all. He couldn't recall what exactly had happened to the Dark Wizard – he could hazard a guess judging by the amount of blood on them and swallowed – but he thought Potter had battled him. Somehow. Then they had got their wands back and had made their way back to London. It all seemed rather anticlimactic and Draco really wanted to know what had happened during those three weeks he had been a captive.

The article itself – spread out across five pages, because of course they couldn't keep an article about Potter's heroic return contained to just one page – didn't provide much information about their time with the Dark Wizard. He himself had refused to answer any question and Potter had evaded replying to most questions concerning what had happened during his time away.

" _I don't know exactly what he wanted," Auror Potter says after he got cleaned up and the Healer took care of his wounds. "He seemed to have lost his mind, saying something about wanting more power."_

" _What did he do to you and Malfoy during those weeks you had been captured?"_

" _We were mostly kept in a cellar," our Hero answers and his eyes look haunted; evidence that whatever he endured in that place is not something to be taken lightly. "We managed to distract him eventually and I duelled him. Mister Malfoy and I escaped after I defeated him."_

" _How did you distract him? What was Malfoy's role in all of this?"_

" _I can't answer any more questions, sorry. The investigation is still ongoing."_

A couple of more articles were dedicated to the case in the following days after their return, but once it became clear that neither Potter, nor the Ministry, nor the Malfoy family would tell the press more, the reporters gave up, not wanting to ruin their chances of getting future interviews with their Saviour.

Draco placed the Prophets back onto the shelf and stared at them with a frown. He knew the chances of actually finding out what had happened during that time through the newspapers had been rather slim, but he had wanted to try. He should have realised that Potter would remain tight-lipped about whatever had taken place in that cellar. Especially given how bloodied they both had looked in the picture.

He gritted his teeth and rose up again, running a hand through his hair. What had happened in that cellar that would have made him throw away his future in exchange for Potter?

What had changed between them in that cellar?

* * *

"Oh, Draco, how is the brewing going?" Mother asked surprised, looking up from the book she was perusing. She was sitting in the parlour; her blonde hair glittering in the bright sunlight.

"It's going," he muttered, taking a seat next to her. "I just finished an order for Saint Mungos."

While he was still studying, he had been approached by the hospital to brew some common potions for them every few months. They didn't trust him, but they did trust his potion skills. He didn't care about their opinion about him; as long as they didn't try to screw him over and paid him what he was due, he would brew for them until he found better contracts.

"That's good," she hummed, turning the page. "Something on your mind?"

He hesitated, leaning back into the chair. Now that he was here, he started doubting his decision to question mother about his disappearance. He didn't want to rankle up bad memories – Merlin knew mother had enough of those after living through two wars. He needed to know, however, and at the moment he felt like he could only trust his mother to be truthful.

"I wanted to ask you something," he started slowly and outside a white peacock ambled lazily past; its pure white feathers gleaming in the sunlight.

Mother paused and closed the book, letting it rest on her lap as she folded her hands on top of it. "What do you want to ask?" she inquired; all her attention fully focused on her son.

"Do you – remember my being captured three years ago?"

Her eyes shuttered close and her face resembled that of a statue more than of a living being. "It's rather difficult to forget a time when I feared I would never see my son again," she murmured and her fingers tightened almost imperceptibly around the cover of her book.

He grimaced. "I'm sorry, it's just – I was told today that Potter and I went out for the first time a month after we freed ourselves."

"Yes, you did," Mother confirmed and her hold on the book relaxed somewhat.

"Do you know why I decided to ask him out?" he inquired and felt himself flush slightly at the inane question. "I gather something must have happened during the time we were both captured, but I don't know _what._ "

Furrowing her eyebrows slightly, she tapped a finger against her lips. "Not exactly. You didn't want to discuss what had happened during your captivity." Her mouth briefly tightened. "You did confess that you thought Harry was the main reason why you hadn't lost your mind back then."

"So I went after him out of a sense of obligation?" he questioned horrified; eyes widening. Was that it? Had he felt indebted to Potter and had he asked the other man out on a date as a way to pay him back? If so, why had he continued the dating until it had turned into a relationship?

"No, no!" Mother hastened to say, shaking her head with a rueful smile. "Perhaps I worded it wrongly. No, Draco, you didn't do it out of obligation – would you really ask someone out on a date merely because you felt obliged for some reason?" She quirked an eyebrow.

Reluctantly he shook his head. He loathed being indebted to someone, but he would get rid of those debts by either exchanging money or favours in the form of potions. But if not because of debt, why had he decided to pursue Potter then? Nothing made sense and he had more questions than answers.

"Then why did I go after him?"

She shook her head. "I don't know, my dragon. You weren't forthcoming with the exact reason. The only one who could give you a complete answer would be Harry." Blue eyes looked at him pointedly.

He clenched his jaw and looked away, knowing that she was right and hating it. If he wanted to have his questions answered, he'd have to talk to Potter, but he really wasn't in the mood to discuss their supposed relationship. Why was it so difficult to just get some of his questions answered?

"You can't keep avoiding him," Mother remarked quietly, but disapproval ran like an undercurrent through her voice and he flinched slightly.

"I'm not avoiding him," he protested stiffly.

"The hours spent here beg to differ," she retorted calmly.

"My lab is here," he replied snidely; his fingers curling like claws around the arm of his chair.

"That it is," she hummed in agreement. "But that did not keep you from spending time with Harry before."

Anger flashed up and he abruptly rose up. "I have a couple more orders to finish," he said coldly, needing to leave before he would actually start a fight with his mother.

"I won't keep you here then," Mother answered and her voice was noticeably cooler as well. "Before you go, I have a request."

"Which is?"

"Bring Harry to the manor this weekend for lunch. It's become tradition for you two to visit each weekend," she stated, opening her book again. "My sister and her grandson will be here too. Teddy appeared especially anxious to see his uncle again."

Draco gritted his teeth, but knew all too well that there was nothing he could say in protest. Mother wasn't suggesting they visited them this weekend, but practically ordering it and nobody went against Narcissa's wishes – not unless they were lacking in intelligence.

"Fine," he muttered and stormed out of the room before his magic had a chance to react to his anger.

He wondered why he had expected to get some real answers; it became apparent that the universe was doing everything in its might to spite him.

* * *

"Ah yeah, Andromeda Fire-called me about it this afternoon," Potter mused as he directed the dirty dishes to the sink where a sponge was already scrubbing glasses clean.

"So we really visit my parents each weekend?" Draco asked sceptically, still seated at the kitchen table. He had returned earlier than usual, too worked up from his conversation with Narcissa to be able to concentrate decently on his brewing. Lessened concentration could have deadly consequences when dealing with potentially volatile potions, so he had decided that it would be in his best interest to retire to his home sooner.

He had been home for half an hour when Potter had come stumbling out of the fireplace, clearly shocked at seeing the blond man already home. He had been smart enough not to say anything about it and had instead announced he would start their dinner.

Potter glanced at him before returning his attention to the dishes. "Yes, unless I'm on a case or you're too busy with brewing," he answered and shrugged.

"I imagine that's mostly my mother's idea and not my father's," Draco remarked dryly, remembering the look Lucius had thrown Potter back at the hospital.

The dark haired man snorted and flicked his wand at the dishtowel, murmuring a spell that set the cloth in motion to dry off the dishes. "Yes, Lucius is not exactly enthusiastic about these lunches, but Narcissa insists on them."

And what Narcissa wanted, she got was the unspoken statement hanging between them in the air.

Potter cleared his throat and leant back against the kitchen counter, folding his arms in front of his stomach. His wand dangled with its tip down to the floor. "Caley shared your information with the rest of us."

Draco grunted, but didn't say anything. What was there to say?

"Thanks to you, we've managed to eliminate quite some cases already," the other man continued cautiously, offering a weak smile.

"You still think my case is connected to others?" the blond man questioned, raising an eyebrow.

"Makes more sense than a random attack," Potter replied and rolled his shoulders.

"I'm not exactly short on enemies," Draco couldn't help but point out snidely again.

The patient look green eyes gave him made him bristle with irritation. "No, but their modus operandi was too specific for it to be just a general attack. If they hated you because of your name, your past or even your brewing skills, I think they would attack you in other ways than just removing your memories. They didn't even just steal random memories or your memories as a whole, but specific ones all tied to our relationship. Something more is going on here than just simple hatred or desire for revenge."

Draco pressed his lips tightly together, but silently admitted Potter was right. He wasn't a stranger to being attack because of who he was or what he had done in the past, but those attacks had generally aimed to disable him, hurt him severely or even kill him. Sure, he had sustained some injuries during this particular attack, but stealing certain memories seemed indeed a strange way to get back at him or punish him.

Unless they were all overthinking it and these scumbags were just insane and thought they could hit him where it hurt by taking away his memories of Potter and their relationship. Too bad for them, but he wasn't particularly feeling hurt by it.

Talking about attacks, though …

"Tomorrow we'll look through the remaining cases and see if there are any similarities to yours," Potter went on; a contemplative look crossing his face. "We've got full access to all the cases, so now it's a matter of - "

"I talked to Millicent this morning," Draco cut him off. His need to know the truth outweighed his reluctance to discuss their relationship after all and Potter was the only one who could answer his questions.

Green eyes blinked bemused. "Okay," Potter said slowly, cocking his head to the left.

"She told me something … interesting."

"What?"

"She said we started dating a month after we escaped from a Dark Wizard," Draco continued and grey eyes sharpened when they saw a hint of discomfort flashing across the younger man's face.

"We did," Potter admitted after a short, tense silence. His shoulders tightened perceptibly.

"The papers weren't very forthcoming with information about this Dark Wizard and mother couldn't tell me much either," Draco went on nonchalantly.

A sigh left Potter and he pursed his lips, his eyes growing noticeably darker. "Just ask what you want, Draco."

The casual use of his first name still irked the blond wizard, but he had more important matters to think about now. "First off, what did that Dark Wizard want with the both of us?"

Potter grimaced and rubbed his upper left arm. "The man was insane," he began after a short pause. "He wanted to experiment with the nature of magic. He wanted to find out whether all magic was the same and it just depended on how we used it or whether there was a significant difference between the magic of a Light person and that of a Dark person."

"What?" A frown creased the older man's forehead as he tried to work out what the dark haired wizard was talking about. "So he thought that people are either born with Dark or Light magic instead of us making those choices?"

"Yes and he needed test subjects to prove that. He decided that prominent figures of both sides would work the best." Potter scowled at the floor.

"And he decided I was a prominent figure of the Dark side?" Draco deduced and didn't know whether to be offended or flattered by the assumption.

"No offence, Draco, but most people don't assign your family to the Light side," Potter retorted and he sounded apologetic. "Your father was quite high ranked in Voldemort's circle," he ignored Draco's angry hiss, "even after you know … And the Malfoy family isn't exactly lacking in magical strength either, so he went after you."

"And for the Light side, he chose you," Draco added and that actually made sense, because even he could admit that Potter didn't lack in magical prowess either. If anyone was a paragon of the Light side, it was Potter now that Dumbledore was dead.

Potter nodded.

"So how exactly did he want to test that?"

"I didn't care to listen to his theory," Potter answered dryly, but disgust rang clearly through his voice. "But he used a variety of spells to keep us both bound in one place and then forced our magic to the surface to study it."

Draco grimaced. While not knowing exactly which spells the Dark Wizard had used, he had read enough about magic and the way it worked – as much as anyone could theorise about it – and knew that forcing one's magic to rise up made for an incredibly painful experience for the victim. The books had described it as being boiled alive, heat so scorching hot and vicious there were no real words to describe the agony of it. Too long experiencing that and one went insane.

All of a sudden mother's remark made a lot more sense.

"People go insane when their magic is forced to the surface for too long," he spoke slowly, recalling the amount of time he had spent at the Dark Wizard's mercy.

Potter inclined his head and smiled wryly. "He was smart enough not to force our magic for too long. After all, his experiment would fail if we went insane or died too quickly," he added bitterly.

"What happened to him?" But even before he noticed green eyes shuttering close, he knew the answer; the picture in the paper had been a glaring clue as well. "You killed him, didn't you?"

"It was either him or us," Potter said quietly and his whole body was unnaturally still; his face a blank mask. "The choice was quickly made in that case."

Draco swallowed and for the first time since waking up and having lost his memory, he felt something akin to both admiration and apprehension when looking at the pregnant man in front of him. Potter didn't strike him as someone who enjoyed killing – not like his Aunt Bellatrix had done or the Dark Lord or Greyback – but Draco had no problem imagining him being absolutely ruthless if the situation forced him to be so.

"How many people know that you killed him?" he inquired after a moment of silence, only broken by the sound of dishes being done.

"Only a select few, including Shacklebolt, my friends and well, you," Potter responded; his face still strangely blank. "We didn't think it was prudent to let too many people know about it in case they got any ideas." His upper lip curled up in a sneer.

The frown on Draco's forehead increased as he realised what was wrong with that answer. "Then how come Millicent seemed to know about it?" She had given him the impression to know quite a lot about the case, even if she had remained tight-lipped about it and wouldn't answer any of his other questions about it.

"Because the Dark Wizard was an Unspeakable – one of her colleagues."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: I have a question for you all: I haven't decided yet which gender the baby will have, so you're free to send in your choice :) Let me know whether you want the baby to be a girl or a boy and the choice with the most votes will win :)
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> I'll see you all on the 30th of June for the fourth chapter!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This one was a bit harder to write for some reason - mainly the ending of a certain scene - but I managed it somehow. I hope it isn't too bad! So far the option boy is winning, so the ones who haven't yet left their vote, there's still time to do so.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and the comments! We're nearly at 100 kudos already :O
> 
> Warnings: eh, drama I suppose. The warnings haven't changed much since the first chapter; small time skip
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

_Chapter 4_

"Millicent didn't tell me that," Draco replied sourly after a brief moment of surprise.

"No, I can imagine she wouldn't be keen on telling you that," Potter retorted mildly.

"Is that the reason why you dislike the Unspeakables? Millicent mentioned that," Draco added as explanation.

"Well, that certainly didn't improve my opinion on them," Potter answered with a snort. "I'm just not fond of people keeping secrets and considering it's their job to work with secrets, well … We clash, let's keep it at that."

Draco wetted his lips as he contemplated how to form his next question. It was the most pressing one he had at the moment, but it was also the most uncomfortable one to ask. He didn't have much of a choice, though, if he wanted to get to the bottom of this.

"So why did we start dating?" he asked after a moment; his stomach doing an odd flip. "Getting kidnapped and basically tortured might be a good romance recipe for novels, but it doesn't work like that in real life. So what happened between us when we were there?"

Potter rubbed his wrist and sighed. "We started talking," he replied slowly. "We were all alone in that cellar and after getting our magic forced to the surface like that we needed something to keep us … grounded I suppose. At first we fought; you blamed me for what had happened, I defended myself, but after a couple of days of our magic being messed with, I guess we were too tired to fight anymore."

Draco frowned; not really liking the way this conversation was going.

"So then we just … talked. About anything and nothing. You told me about how you grew up and I shared some things about my childhood. We, eh, apologised for what we did to each other." Potter vaguely waved towards the blond's chest, which still bore scars from the Sectumsempra he had been hit by in their sixth year. "Talking with each other became something we … needed after the sessions we were put through."

"So what? We kept each other sane, you mean?"

"I suppose you could say it was like that," Potter agreed reluctantly.

"While this explains a few things, it still doesn't explain why I wanted to ask you out," Draco pointed out, narrowing his eyes slightly.

An explosive sigh left the dark haired man. "I don't know, Draco. We'd become pretty close by the time I managed to take the Unspeakable down. We met up a couple of times after that and during one of those times you asked me out. I think Ron nearly had an aneurysm when he heard about that." He chuckled at the memory.

"Why did you say yes?" Draco pressed on, still not entirely convinced of the story. It sounded all way too easy. Why would them confiding in each other lead to Draco wanting to date him?

A dark eyebrow was raised. "Because I wanted to."

Merlin, but Potter loved being infuriating, didn't he?

"But why?" Draco asked stubbornly, not willing to accept that kind of answer.

Potter threw his hands up in the air and looked at him exasperatedly. "Because when we talked, I realised there was more to you than the spoilt, annoying git I had known in school, okay? And I wanted to get to know you better, because I was interested."

The blond wizard paused and mulled that over. "Did I say why I wanted to date you?"

"Only that you were interested in me and wanted to see what would happen between us," Potter answered clipped and shrugged.

"Well, that answer doesn't help me at all," Draco huffed irritated, tapping his fingers rapidly on the table.

Briefly Potter closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Look, I don't know what you want me to tell you, okay?" he said, sounding put out. "We started dating because we're interested in each other and from there our relationship grew."

"Are you certain we weren't under the influence of a spell?" Draco demanded suspiciously.

Immediately the temperature in the room plummeted and he tensed, eyeing the other wizard warily while his own hand crept towards his wand.

Potter offered him a cold smile, so eerily reminiscent of one Draco had seen adorning the Dark Lord's face that it made him shudder involuntarily and stiffen up.

"Oh no, we weren't under the influence of a spell. I can assure you we were both lucid when we made the decision to date. If you don't believe me, go ask your father. He was … very thorough in inspecting you for all kinds of curses, spells and potions, because he couldn't believe either that we genuinely like each other." His cold smile deepened, if possible, even more and he brought his hand to his chest in a mocking gesture of apology. "So I'm sorry to tell you this, Draco, but you fell in love with me of your own volition."

Draco jumped and couldn't supress a flinch when the door of one of the cabinets slammed shut. Potter straightened himself from the counter, stuffing his wand into his pocket.

"I'm going to bed," he announced curtly. "I'll see you in the morning – or not." He left the kitchen without looking back once and somewhere there was the sound of glass shattering.

Well, at least Potter's temper hadn't changed in all these years. Draco wasn't certain whether he was really comforted by that thought.

* * *

When Draco went back home on Friday evening and removed his robes – some mustard yellow stains were splattered on his sleeves when the potion he had been working on exploded and he made a mental note to get a house elf to clean it – he paused when he heard footsteps upstairs. Glancing at the clock he saw that it was six thirty and he quirked an eyebrow.

Was Potter home already?

A bit wary he slowly made his way upstairs, letting himself be led by the muted sounds of footsteps and the rustling of paper. He ended up in front of the last room of the first floor, of which the door stood slightly ajar. He recalled Potter telling him this was the study he used when he brought cases home with him, but he couldn't remember ever hearing Potter move around in this room.

He smiled wryly; perhaps it was difficult to remember such a thing when he hadn't been interested in spending much time in this house.

"Are you going to keep standing there or are you going to come in?" Potter suddenly called out, startling the blond man.

A bit chagrined at being caught – and he really should have known better than to think he would be left undetected by a trained Auror – he pushed open the door and took a step inside, surveying the room quickly.

It was a bit smaller than the guest room Draco had been using for nearly two weeks now. There was one window, half covered by long, dark blue drapes. The walls were a light blue and the floor was devoid of any carpet or rug, showing polished wooden planks. The walls on either side of the door were hidden behind bookcases and those were filled with several files, books – both new and old – and even a couple of vials that might or might not be empty. Right next to the window was a desk and Potter was seated at it; his back to Draco as he was writing something down.

"You're home early," Potter remarked casually, twisting around a bit so he could look at the older man.

"Didn't have much luck with a new potion I've been attempting to brew for the past few days," Draco admitted begrudgingly. He nodded towards the file lying open in front of the dark haired man. "Don't get enough of reading through files that you have to take some home with you?"

Potter snorted, placing his quill down. "Ron has a date night with Hermione and I figured I might as well take some files home so I can read them in peace. It tends to get rather noisy at the department on Friday evening."

"Still trying to find a link between the cases?" Draco inquired, leaning against the doorjamb.

This time Potter turned around completely, sitting backwards on his chair with his arms leaning on top of it and his legs on either side of it. Draco barely held back his sneer at the uncouth posture.

"We actually did find links between several cases today," Potter answered gleefully and his eyes glinted smugly. "So far we've already discovered six other cases similar to yours and now I'm looking through the remaining ten to see if any others pop up. Starting next week we will question these people again. Maybe they might remember something else now."

Draco was a bit stunned at the declaration and he straightened up in surprise. "How recent are these cases?"

"Depends on your definition of recent," Potter replied and shrugged. He cast a glance at the file behind him before turning back to the blond wizard. "The oldest one so far dates back ten months ago; the most recent one – bar yours – is seven weeks ago."

"And what's the link between them?" Draco demanded, taking a step closer; intrigued against his will.

"Links," Potter corrected him. "All the victims are either convicted Death Eaters or were at least strongly suspected of being a Death Eater. They all mention being attacked by three people whose faces they couldn't see and at least four of them mention missing memories of loved ones. Until we have talked to them again, we don't know whether their amnesia is similar to yours, but at the moment it does appear to be the case."

Those cases were … indeed too similar to his to be just a coincidence. "So whoever is behind this, is targeting Death Eaters?" Draco asked slowly; his hands clenching into fists so tightly he felt the sharp sting of his nails biting into his skin.

"Death Eaters or suspected ones who are free," Potter clarified; his voice quieter than before. "So far we haven't received any reports of people breaking into Azkaban to attack Death Eaters there, so I suppose it's safe to assume the group is targeting only the ones outside of prison."

"What? They think they know better than the Wizengamot?" Draco sneered.

Potter held up his hands placatingly. "That or they're taking revenge for something," he said and frowned. He snatched a piece of parchment out of the file and held it in front of him. "So far, though, I haven't been able to link either one of your enemies to ones the others mentioned. If your attackers are people on this list, they're either working with others or they are remarkably well at covering their tracks so that we can't find a common link."

The dark haired man sighed and dropped the list back on the desk, before raking his hands through his hair, messing it up even further. "I'm going to take the list with me when we talk to the other victims and check whether they recognise someone on it."

"I thought you said you were on desk duty," Draco pointed out with a frown and he couldn't stop himself from quickly looking down. He couldn't see Potter's stomach, naturally, hidden as it was behind the chair.

Potter quirked an eyebrow and looked strangely amused. "I am," he confirmed, crossing his arms on top of the chair again. "But that only means I can't go into battles or confront actual suspects. It doesn't mean I can't interview victims or witnesses. Besides, if I have to stay cooped up in that office for the next six months, I'll go insane."

"You could be attacked on your way to the victims' homes," the blond wizard remarked pointedly.

"Worried? Don't be. I know how to defend myself," Potter riposted calmly and twirled his wand between his fingers. Green eyes slipped to the clock hanging next to the bookcase and he winced. "Ah damn, I didn't know it was this late already. I'll start on dinner."

"I could cook," Draco blurted out and grimaced. He hadn't intended on making that particular offer at all, but it didn't set well with him that Potter could act this friendly with him after the way they had parted last night. And yes, perhaps he did feel slightly guilty about inquiring whether or not they had been cursed to fall in love with each other, but well, he just had wanted to be certain. What was wrong with that?

Grey eyes stared surprised at the younger man, who had thrown his head back and was laughing merrily. Emerald green eyes glittered when Potter lowered his head again to meet his gaze; a grin still playing around his mouth.

"No offense, Draco, but while you're a master in brewing potions, I definitely have more skills in the kitchen," Potter chuckled and rose up from his chair, pushing it against the desk before closing the file. "Just trust me on this: it's better for the both of us if I do the cooking here." He winked and then directed the files with his wand into one of the bookcases. That done, he made his way to the door.

"I was thinking of making fish, salmon perhaps or codfish," Potter mused. "With potato salad. Which do you want: salmon or codfish?" He looked expectantly at the older wizard when he paused in front of him.

Draco stared back at him, frankly amazed at how light hearted Potter was around him now. Yesterday he had looked close to cursing the hell out of him, but now he was laughing and discussing dinner as if nothing bad had happened between them.

It made something twist inside of him.

"I'm sorry for what I said last night," Draco said; his heartbeat all of a sudden quite loud in his ears. He swallowed and crossed his arms in front of his chest, feeling oddly defensive. "I – shouldn't have asked something like that. That was out of line and I apologise."

Potter sobered up and regarded him carefully. Slowly he nodded. "Apology accepted," he murmured and took a deep breath, shaking his head slightly. "So codfish or salmon?" he repeated in a forced light tone.

"Codfish," Draco muttered and watched how Potter slipped past him and went downstairs, his shoulders stiff under the blond's scrutiny.

How strange was it that a rude question of Draco made Potter dish out coldness like it was nothing, but an apology made him awkward?

* * *

"And when I learn how to fly, you promise I can ride on your Nimbus!" five year old Teddy chirped, dragging his plate with a piece of chocolate cake towards him. It was his second piece so far and judging by the way he was eying the rest of the chocolate cake with its vanilla frosting, he wouldn't say no to a third serving either.

"No, your cousin did not promise such a thing, Teddy and you know that very well," Aunt Andromeda admonished him sternly and Teddy pouted; his hair changing from honey blond to a dark brown.

"Did I not promise him how to learn to fly or did I not promise him he could use my Nimbus 2001?" Draco asked amused, taking a bite out of his own cake. It was delicious as always; the chocolate basically melting on his tongue.

"You and Harry promised to teach him once he turns six, but we all agreed that he will first fly on a children's broom," she explained and looked pointedly at her grandson.

"But the Nimbus is faster!" Teddy protested; eyes this time turning into a deep purple.

Draco wondered whether there was a specific meaning attached to each colour or whether they were just randomly picked by the boy's magic.

"That may be so, but you're still too young to fly on that," Aunt Andromeda stated calmly and narrowed her eyes when the boy opened his mouth. "If you keep whining about it, Teddy, you'll have to wait until your first year in Hogwarts to learn how to fly," she warned him.

His pout worsened, but he sullenly returned to his chocolate cake and didn't attempt any further protest.

Draco smirked; the young boy amusing him more than he had expected.

" _I'm Teddy Lupin." The young boy stepped forwards; big dark blue eyes aimed at Draco. "You're my cousin, but I call you Uncle Draco and Harry is my godfather, but I call him uncle too," he chattered, holding out his arms._

_A bit bemused Draco bent his knees and picked his cousin up; grunting at the weight. The brown haired boy wrapped his arms around his neck; an action so familiar Draco assumed they had done this many times before._

" _We always have fun together," Teddy continued solemnly and his eyes sparkled when they caught sight of Potter entering the foyer. "Uncle Harry!" Immediately he released Draco's neck with his right arm and held it out to Potter._

" _Hello Teddy," Potter laughed and crossed the room, taking over his godson and settling him on his hip with an easiness Draco almost envied him for. "How have you been?"_

_A touch on his wrist made Draco turn away from the scene and he looked straight into apologetic dark eyes; similar to Bellatrix's but wider and infinitely more kinder._

" _I explained to him that you had lost some memories of Harry and him. I guess he took that to mean that you wouldn't recognise him," Aunt Andromeda explained and smiled wryly._

_So his aunt and cousin knew about his partial amnesia too, huh?_

_He breathed out slowly and shrugged. "It's all right. I guess it's better than him being disappointed later on when I can't remember something I did with him," he said lightly._

" _He'll be more than happy to fill you in on everything you can't remember at the moment," she remarked dryly and then went over to Potter to kiss him on his cheek as a greeting._

"Now that you're better again, does this mean I can go to your house again?" Teddy questioned; the corners of his mouth smeared with chocolate.

"Eh." Draco blinked bemused, taken aback by the odd request.

"Normally Teddy visits you at your place a couple of times each week," Aunt Andromeda clarified. "But Harry thought it was better if Teddy stayed away for a while to give you some time to adjust."

Draco started. "Did he now?" he murmured and his eyes automatically shot towards the seat Potter had occupied for lunch. It was empty now and a light frown creased his forehead when he realised that his mother was gone too.

"They went back inside a while ago," Father remarked flatly, accepting his own plate with dessert from one of the house elves. He had gone inside to deal with a Floo call and had just returned to the garden where they had eaten lunch.

Struck by a sudden bout of curiosity – _what were they talking about?_ – Draco rose up from his chair, ignoring his father's narrowed gaze.

"Uncle Draco, can I go to your house again?" Teddy implored, looking a bit put out at not having received an answer immediately.

"I'll think about it, Teddy," Draco replied absentmindedly and strode towards the manor, ignoring Teddy's huff.

A house elf cleaning the bust of his ancestor Septimus Malfoy turned around and bowed. "Master Malfoy," he greeted.

"Where did my mother and Potter go?" he inquired.

"The first study on the left on the first floor, Master Malfoy," the house elf answered and returned to his cleaning after Draco had nodded.

He couldn't explain why he felt the need to know what Potter was talking about with mother. For all he knew they could be discussing something related to the baby, but if that was the case, they might as well have done that during lunch. So what was important enough for them to retire into the manor where no one would hear them?

Having learnt from his mistake last night, he cast both a Muffle Charm on his feet and a No Noticing Me Spell on himself. Those should be enough to fool an Auror whose attention was focused on a conversation. When he reached the landing of the first floor, he noticed that they hadn't cared to close the door completely – probably in the assumption that everyone else would remain downstairs.

"… so Ron and I will start the interviews on Monday," Potter was saying and Draco realised that they were discussing his case.

His frown deepened; surely a conversation like that could have been hold downstairs?

"That's good to hear," Mother murmured and there was the sound of her gown rustling against the floor. "But I asked you how you felt – not what you are doing at your work, Harry." Her voice carried a slight chiding tone.

"I'm fine, don't worry," Potter sighed.

There was a pause and Draco imagined mother raising an eyebrow in that sceptical manner she had whenever she suspected her son of lying.

"Really, Narcissa, I'm fine," Potter repeated wearily.

"How are things going with Draco?"

Another pause. "They're going," he answered warily.

"Harry."

"Look, it's fine, okay? I knew what I was getting myself into. The Healer was more than clear about that," Potter retorted sourly. "It's barely been two weeks, so I'd say we're doing as well as we can in this situation."

"Has he at least tried to talk to you about your relationship?"

"He did," Potter answered humourlessly. "It went … less than stellar but I shouldn't have expected anything else. It's just … I feel like I'm living with a stranger now. Wait, no, not a stranger. I know this Draco, but it's a Draco I thought I wouldn't have to see ever again."

Muffled footsteps walked back and forth as if the owner of them was pacing. "I just don't know what to do now. I know he has lost all his memories of us and I know it's been barely two weeks now and I shouldn't expect more, but … I just don't know, Narcissa. If he can barely stand to be around me now, what the hell are we supposed to do when the baby comes?"

"Do you want me to talk to him?" Mother offered; her voice softer than Draco had ever heard it be before.

Potter laughed self-deprecatingly. "And then being accused of trying to turn you against him? No, thank you. I can handle it, don't worry."

"Harry," she said disapprovingly.

"I can handle it," he repeated. "We'll figure it out somehow. We got past our rivalry once before, so we should be able to do this again. I'm not going to let them win. They've taken his memories from him, but I'm not going to allow them to take him from me completely."

Draco had heard enough. Swiftly he turned around and walked back downstairs; a sour taste coating his mouth.

They made him sound like the bad guy for not reacting like they wanted him to react. It hadn't even been two weeks since he had woken up – couldn't they all just give him a bloody break?!

And Potter, the everlasting martyr, who they all pitied because his fiancé wasn't treating him like they felt he should. Why was nobody feeling sorry for Draco when he was the one who had lost his memories?

Why was he suddenly the bad guy?

* * *

_Maybe I could borrow some of these books_ , Draco mused as his eyes roamed across the various titles on the shelf. There was one about brewing in special conditions that especially called out to him.

It was Sunday, a week after he had seen Teddy for the first time again and he was currently visiting Blaise. He needed a break from brewing and spending the entire day with Potter hadn't exactly sounded appealing. Things weren't exactly bad between them now – even if Draco was still quite annoyed at what he had heard in that study – but that had mostly to do with the fact that they had barely seen each other this past week. Potter was busy interviewing the other victims and Draco was working on several orders. He had to go back soon, because Teddy was due to visit them in a few hours, but for now he still had some Potter free time at Blaise's place.

Pansy was here too, having arrived half an hour after Draco and was currently discussing her latest shopping trip, though Draco was mostly tuning her out. He couldn't really be bothered to listen to how many robes she had bought in which colours and definitely wasn't interested in the pairs of shoes that went well with them.

"So I bought those clothes for him. They should automatically expand," Pansy concluded her tale of her shopping trip, sounding satisfied.

"You think he's going to be happy with a gift like that?" Blaise questioned amused.

"He will be once he sees how good he'll look in them," she sniffed haughtily. "Really, he might be one of the best in his field, but he's an absolute disaster when it comes to clothes."

"We can't all be fashionistas like you, Pansy," Draco remarked amused, slotting himself back into the conversation. He walked back to his chair and addressed Blaise, "You mind parting with some of your books for a while?"

"Knock yourself out," Blaise answered, waving his hand lazily. "At least then they'll actually have a use outside of filling the shelves."

"So, Draco, what are you getting him for his birthday?" Pansy inquired, leaning forwards. Her dark brown hair slipped over her shoulders like water.

Grey eyes gazed at her blankly. "Get what for whose birthday?"

She narrowed her eyes and pursed her mouth slightly. "Don't tell me you forgot! Potter's birthday of course!"

"It's the thirty-first of this month, remember," Blaise added, raising an eyebrow.

_Ah fuck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: Not really a cliffhanger, right?
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> Next time: Harry's birthday and the return of another character.
> 
> I see you all back on the 14th of July!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This chapter gave me a bit of trouble for some reason, but I managed to finish it *sweatdrops*
> 
> Thanks for the comments and the kudos! I'm happy to see we've passed 100 kudos already :D
> 
> Warnings: hm, nothing in particular about this chapter requires a warning
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like this!

_Chapter 5_

"Teddy will be here soon," Potter remarked, looking up from the newspaper when Draco passed the living room.

"I know; I just have to take a look at something," Draco muttered and hurried upstairs before the other man could say anything else. He needed to see with his own eyes what he had hidden.

The room next to Potter's study was filled with nothing but books. All four walls were lined with bookcases reaching the ceiling; a single window magically enchanted to show a meadow in spring time provided some natural light in the room. A dark blue carpet with silver thread forming some kind of maze muffled his footsteps and he allowed the door to fall shut behind him. Some books were about transfiguration; a couple of others handled charms, but the majority of them were about curses and spells and hexes – books that every self-respecting Auror had. One bookcase was filled to the brim with potion books and diaries of potion masters and it was this one which attracted Draco's attention.

" _You completely forgot, didn't you?" Blaise sighed, shaking his head._

_Grey eyes glared at him. "I've been a little bit preoccupied these past couple of weeks," Draco bit out._

" _Be that as it may, you can't show up empty-handed at your fiancé's birthday party," Pansy said exasperatedly and the blond wizard bristled at the note of disappointment in her voice._

" _Look, I don't think Potter will expect anything from me this time," he retorted irritated. Even Potter wasn't stupid enough to expect Draco to come up with a birthday gift when he didn't know the man's likes and dislikes – or more accurately couldn't remember them._

" _Yes, don't go out of your way to make that man happy, Draco," Pansy said snippily, scowling at him._

_Oh Merlin, were they back at this shit again?_

" _Never mind the fact that we're talking about Potter here," Draco started, gritting his teeth, "how do you propose I buy a gift for him when I can't even remember what he likes, hm?"_

_She frowned and pursed her mouth, but didn't have a snappy retort ready – knowing that Draco was right._

" _Well, that's why you have friends," Blaise pointed out dryly, taking a sip from his glass of Firewhiskey._

" _What? You know what kind of gift he wants?" Draco furrowed his eyebrows._

" _I can do better: I can tell you where you put the gift you bought."_

"The third shelf on the left," Draco muttered; his eyes scanning the shelf in question. The books on this one were all diaries from the nineteenth century and mainly discussed theoretical aspects of brewing instead of detailing recipes.

In other words: Potter would consider them too boring to ever consider taking one off the shelf. The perfect hiding place for a gift.

Blaise hadn't been able to tell him what kind of gift he had purchased – apparently Draco had wanted to keep it a secret – but according to the dark skinned man Draco had been certain that Potter would love it.

Plucking the first two diaries from the shelf, Draco raised an eyebrow when he caught the glimmer of a ward on the back of the bookcase. When he lifted his wand at it, the glimmer grew more pronounced until the outline of a small square appeared on the wood – just big enough to fit his hand through it if he could find an opening to it. Figuring that this must be the hiding place of the mysterious gift, he studied the ward carefully. Relief filled him when he realised that the ward he had cast was something that could be brought down by just a touch of his finger.

It was a nifty little trick that almost every wizard and witch knew about; the ward would only lower once it sensed the magic of the person who had cast it. A lot of people used this particular ward in order to hide expensive or rare items, because it was an effective tool against thieves.

The Draco from before the memory loss took hiding presents apparently very seriously.

He slipped his wand back into his pocket and reached out with his index finger, touching the square right in the middle. The ward pushed against him for a few seconds and it felt like static electricity hit him before the ward relaxed completely and lowered itself – revealing a mini safe with a very small knob popping into existence to aid him into opening the small door.

A bit intrigued now, he pinched the little door knob between his thumb and index finger and pulled at it. The safe opened smoothly, showing a thin package right in the middle. The wrapping paper was a very dark blue, almost bordering on black, and a silver bow tied it all neatly together.

Still not having any clue as to what the package could contain, Draco removed it from the safe and stared at it with a frown. It felt … not really light, but not too heavy either. Whatever was inside was hidden in a box and he clucked his tongue. He could remove the wrapping, but it would be a pain in the arse to get the paper around the present neatly again; he had never excelled at household charms. He had one other option, though.

A quick look around the mini library showed him a small table wedged between two bookcases on his right and he walked over to it, placing the package on the wooden table. He tapped the present with his wand and murmured, "Demonstro Objectum Abditum."

A black spark left his wand and hit the package right in the middle, glowing darkly like a dying ember. Out of the spark grew several thin lines which spread out and wiggled around in the air until they formed a copy identical to the package. Instead of being wrapped like the original lying underneath it, though, this one was devoid of the blue paper. A small wooden box floated in the air in front of Draco and the lid popped off it soundlessly.

A silver bracelet rested on the white pillow in the box; on top of it were three gemstones embedded. The left one was a dark orange stone with yellow and brown spots mixed through it: amber. Next to the amber, a milky white rose stone was set and that one was easy to recognise: rose quartz. The third and last stone was a deep olive green and it took Draco a few seconds before he recognised the stone as being peridot. All three stones were cut into small squares so that they neatly fitted next to each other.

It looked like a random collection of stones to the unknowing eye, but Draco had learnt a bit about the meanings of gemstones in the past few years. Some potions required gemstones to be used in them and not knowing the meanings of the various stones could lead to nasty surprises. His knowledge didn't extend to being able to pinpoint the exact meaning of each stone, but he knew enough to recognise that all three stones were meant to provide protection.

Slowly he breathed out and then slashed his wand to the right, dismissing the copy the spell had called up.

"Draco? Teddy's here!" Potter called from downstairs and giggling accompanied his voice.

"I'll be right there," Draco called back and after throwing one last glance at the package, he returned it to the safe and put the ward back up.

Well, nobody could accuse him of not being thoughtful with his gift.

* * *

Potter's birthday was on Monday this year. Draco had assumed the party would be held in the weekend considering the day, but that was not the case as Potter had casually informed him a few days before.

The party took place at Malfoy Manor and to Draco's aggravation the whole Weasley bunch was invited – and actually willing to come. One of the Weasleys – the oldest son if Draco wasn't mistaken – already had two children with his wife, the quarter Veela girl who had competed in the Triwizard Tournament. Aunt Andromeda and Teddy were there as well, but the sheer amount of ginger filling the backyard was an eyesore. What the hell had his mother been thinking?

"It's Harry's birthday today, dear. At least attempt to be polite to the Weasleys," Mother murmured, accepting a glass of sparkly, fruity champagne from one of the house elves walking around.

Draco was surprised Granger hadn't had a fit yet, being served by house elves. As it was, she was steadfastly ignoring the elves flitting around as she talked to Potter.

"Did we have to invite them here, mother?" he asked irritated, snatching his own glass from the tray.

"Yes, Draco, because your house is too small for this type of gathering," she replied and side eyed him. She tapped his wrist warningly. "Behave. I will not have Harry's birthday ruined, because you deem it fit to cause an argument."

"And what if they're the ones causing the argument?" he muttered darkly, but mother swept away, walking over to Potter to kiss his cheek in greeting.

"Malfoy. I see the stick is back up your arse again." The last remaining twin Weasley – what was his name again? George? With so many Weasleys around he would _have_ to think of them by their first name – piped up next to him, nursing his own glass. His eyes were unnaturally sharp as they studied the blond wizard critically.

"Does everyone know what happened? Why not alert the press while you're at it," Draco remarked irritated.

A sharp bark of laughter left the older man and Draco eyed him warily. "Well, my dear brother in all but name had to explain why you're suddenly not all that affectionate anymore." A dark, grim smile painted his mouth. "For your sake, I hope you're still treating him well despite the memory loss, Malfoy. Unpleasant things might start happening to you otherwise." He winked and left, threat hanging in the air.

"You okay?" Potter halted in front of him, casting a quick look at the retreating back of the Weasley twin.

"Why wouldn't I be?" Draco inquired, narrowing his eyes slightly.

"I'm sorry if George was rude," Potter said, looking away awkwardly as he rubbed his neck. "He's, eh, he can be a bit too protective sometimes."

Draco gifted him a razor sharp smile. "Well, can't have you being hurt by the mean Malfoy, right?" he mocked, raising his glass.

The dark haired man sighed and regarded him wearily. "Look, Draco, I'm sure he - "

"Save it, Potter, I don't particularly care whether he meant it or not," Draco retorted dismissively and nodded to the large chocolate cake with five tiers decorated with raspberries and strawberries that was currently being brought out into the garden by five house elves. "Looks like your cake is here, birthday boy."

Potter narrowed his eyes and opened his mouth, but whatever he wanted to say was lost when mother called out, "Draco? Harry? The cake is here; come cut the first piece, Harry."

"Come on, before Teddy decides he's done waiting," Potter muttered and turned around.

Not really having any other choice, Draco followed him.

* * *

"Thanks, Ron," Potter laughed when he pushed the bright red wrapping paper away and encountered a book titled ' _From Björn Blizzard to Wronski Feint: Every Quidditch Tactic in Detail_ '.

Weasley grinned. "Figured you needed some light reading after what 'Mione gave you," he said and laughed when Granger slapped his shoulder and huffed.

"There's nothing wrong with a book providing detailed information about curses," she snipped, sounding offended.

"Of course there isn't," Weasley soothed her and pecked her on her lips.

Draco rolled his eyes, but remained silent; all too aware of mother's watchful gaze resting upon him.

The chocolate cake had been largely diminished and the Weasley matron had declared it was time for Potter to open his presents. As if by unspoken rule the whole Weasley family had offered their gifts first; every present wrapped in the brightest coloured paper that could be found. The Weasley parents had given Potter a box of homemade cupcakes and a stuffed lion for the baby. Their eldest son, Bill, and their daughter-in-law, Fleur, had followed with a member card to the Lionheart's Duelling Club. This particular club was situated in Oxford and only people with excellent duelling skills were awarded with a member card. As far as Draco was aware, Potter had never set a foot inside there, but naturally the club was willing to bend their rules for Boy Wonder. It certainly would boost their prestige even more now that they could count Harry Potter as one of their members.

Charlie Weasley had returned from Romania for a couple of days and his gift was a statue of a Hungarian Horntail mid fight with a Norwegian Ridgeback. It wasn't carved out of wood, but out of a particular stone that Draco couldn't immediately recognise and it was honestly quite impressive looking.

The Weasley working at the Ministry – Percy was his name if Draco recalled correctly – wasn't present, but he had sent a couple of Spelling Correcting Quills and ink with a special spell waved through it that would prevent anyone from tampering with the papers it was used on. The remaining Weasley twin had presented a box full of newly developed pranks; some of which, he assured Potter, could be used in an actual fight with a Dark Wizard.

Granger had – to no one's surprise – gifted Potter a book about curses which went deeper into the history of how the curses had come into existence. Not a subject Draco would have envisioned Potter being interested in – considering it dealt more with the history of it than the actual use – but the wizard seemed genuinely pleased with it.

Weasley's present was put on the pile next to Potter and this time the Weasley girl stepped forwards with a pale green package in her hands. Her lip gloss stained lips glistened in the sunlight when she curled up her mouth into a smile and she handed the present over.

"No Quidditch pass this year?" Potter remarked teasingly as he accepted the gift.

She rolled her eyes. "All right, I underestimated just how much of a frenzy you being there would cause," she huffed, crossing her arms. "I learnt from that mistake, don't worry."

"I'm not worried," he smiled as he ripped the paper away from the present. He blinked and held up a pair of slim, black gloves.

"I got Professor Flitwick to put some charms on it," the Weasley girl explained, tapping one of the gloves. "Aside from automatically adjusting to your size, they also can withstand extreme temperatures and provide some protection so that criminals won't have an easy time trying to get your wand from you."

"Thanks, Ginny. These are amazing," Potter grinned and stood up to hug her.

She chuckled and hugged him back; her ginger hair clashing against his black strands.

Right, they had dated for a while back in Hogwarts, hadn't they? Draco's stomach did an odd flip and he crossed his arms, wondering whether that second piece of chocolate cake had been too much.

"It's my turn now!" Teddy demanded, handing over the multicoloured cube he had been playing with to Bill's oldest daughter. The three year old girl blinked, but accepted the toy with a grin, squeezing in it and shrieking in delight when it coloured a bright blue.

"You got a present for me, Teddy?" Potter smiled, sitting back down and the Weasley girl backed off a bit.

"Of course," Teddy huffed, as if that was a stupid question and turned to Aunt Andromeda. "Grandma, the gift, please."

The older woman smiled indulgently and gave him some papers and a gift wrapped in bright yellow paper decorated with white clouds. The five year old grinned and hurried towards his godfather. He held up a bunch of papers first.

"This is for you," he said solemnly. "I picked the best colours for it!"

"Thank you, Teddy, they're gorgeous!" Potter gushed, studying each page carefully.

Draco leant slightly forwards and saw that the pages contained drawings. The one Potter currently was looking at was one of three stick figures flying next to each other with bright grins on their faces.

Teddy beamed and held out the other present. "And this is for the baby!" he declared, carefully patting Potter's stomach.

"Oh?" Potter raised an eyebrow bemused, but placed the drawings on the table and accepted the gift, unwrapping it carefully. A fluffy, dark brown stuffed wolf popped out from amidst the paper. "Teddy, this is your wolf," he remarked surprised.

"Yes, and now it's going to be baby's wolf," Teddy replied brightly, petting the head of the wolf gently. "Moony protected me when it's night and now he's going to protect the baby!"

A chorus of "Aw!" followed that statement and Potter carefully placed the stuffed wolf on the table before he leant forwards and hugged Teddy.

"Thank you, Teddy. I'm sure the baby will love it," he said with a rather thick voice and Draco was a bit perturbed to notice the younger man blinking away some stray tears.

Teddy preened and returned his godfather's embrace enthusiastically.

Aunt Andromeda's gift turned out to be a collection of small vials; each one containing a different potion. At Potter's confused look, she clarified dryly with a meaningful look aimed at his stomach, "Trust me, you're going to need those in the upcoming months."

Lucius and Narcissa – though Draco assumed that the gift was more his mother's idea than his father's – had arranged a trip to a resort in Greece for three weeks; the departure unspecified so that Potter could take it up whenever he wished to do so. Draco had a dark suspicion that the trip was actually meant for the two of them when green eyes quickly glanced at him before looking away embarrassed. He'd have to pick someone else to go with him to Greece; Draco wasn't in the slightest interested in spending time at a resort.

Then Pansy stepped forwards and presented her huge bag of clothes with a flourish and a smirk on her red painted lips.

"I should have expected clothes," Potter commented amused, riffling through the bag and holding up a dark green shirt in the air.

"I'll get you to dress decently if it's the last thing I do, Potter," Pansy promised him solemnly, leaning back against the table. She flipped her hair over her shoulder and added, "And you won't have any excuse of not being able to wear them in a few months. They're spelled to adjust to your form."

"And here I thought I had found a loophole," Potter bemoaned, but the smile on his face belied his tone.

"If you weren't pregnant, I would have given you a nice bottle of Elven wine to combat Pansy's gift, but alas, you'll have to do it with this," Blaise remarked and smirked when Pansy stomped on his foot.

"You didn't," Potter muttered in disbelief when the paper peeled away to reveal a small cage – containing a small, poisonous green snake with one single white line running over the length of its body.

Weasley backed off in surprise and Victoire squeaked in fright before hastily turning around and burying her face into her mother's skirt. Teddy remained near Potter, but he regarded the snake apprehensively, cocking his head to the left.

"Really trying to outdo everyone, huh, Blaise?" Draco drawled, but eyed the snake warily. His friend hadn't told him what kind of gift he had bought, but the blond had assumed it would be some book – not a real snake.

The snake rose up slowly and its eyes were an unnatural dark blue colour. It leant forwards, swaying back and forth gently, before it stuck its tongue out and hissed something.

A look of concentration filled Potter's face and then he was suddenly hissing back and the snake replied and they were having a whole conversation in Parseltongue. Draco watched it happening with an odd squirming sensation in his stomach. Potter being a Parselmouth had been known throughout whole Hogwarts after he had talked to that snake during their second year, but Draco hadn't given it any thought afterwards. He couldn't decide what to think of the odd, smooth hissing sounds leaving Potter's mouth. The Dark Lord had delighted in talking to his snake, bringing terror in every Death Eater present because they couldn't understand him and for all they knew he could have been ordering his snake to eat anyone of them.

Which had sometimes actually happened whenever a Death Eater had displeased him.

Draco didn't have any good memories of someone speaking Parseltongue, but for some reason hearing Potter speak it didn't bother him as much as hearing the Dark Lord hissing had done.

"I don't recognise that type of snake," Granger remarked with a faint frown.

"You wouldn't," Blaise replied calmly. "I acquired it from a profession specialising in magical snake breeds. You like him, Potter?"

Potter raised his head and ceased talking to the snake. "I like him," he confirmed, studying the snake intently when it curled up in its cage and closed its eyes. "He told me he's been bred to neutralise wards."

"Can come in handy for your job," Bill commented blandly; the look he threw the snake was full of apprehension.

"It could," the dark haired wizard agreed and cautiously lowered the cage on the table. The snake didn't even stir.

Draco was still studying the snake when he became aware of everybody's gaze trained at him. Slowly he raised his head and quirked an eyebrow, asking silently what their deal was.

"You're the only one left who still has to give his present, Malfoy," the Weasley girl pointed out primly and her eyes were sharp.

In fact most people were eyeing him up, some with narrowed eyes and pursed lips. Potter was the only one studiously looking away, while Teddy gazed at him curiously.

"Or did you perhaps forget?" she added with narrowed eyes.

The blond man scoffed derisively. "My memory loss doesn't extend that far, Weasley," he retorted snidely and ignored Pansy's raised eyebrow and Blaise's muffled cough.

Potter's head shot up and green eyes stared at him in shock when Draco stepped forwards and plucked the small package out of his pocket. He presented it to the other man, disregarding the way Potter's hand trembled slightly when he accepted the gift.

"Happy birthday," Draco muttered, taking a step back; his mother's gaze pricked the back of his neck and he resisted the urge to swipe at his skin.

"Thanks," Potter murmured and after a short pause he plucked at the bow until it unravelled. The wrapping paper was next and the crinkling noise it caused when being removed sounded especially loud in the silence that had descended upon the group. Most of them appeared to collectively hold their breath and Draco reigned in the urge to snort and instead crossed his arms. One would think they had never seen someone open a gift before.

"Oh," Potter breathed out when he removed the lid and saw the bracelet resting on the pillow. A finger carefully traced the three gemstones embedded in it. "It's beautiful. Thank you!" Large, green eyes stared at him with awe and the blond wizard shifted his foot uncomfortably.

"I'm glad you like the gift," he said stiffly.

Potter grinned and plucked the bracelet out of its box. Deftly he undid the clasp and slid it around his left wrist before snapping the clasp shut again. When he moved his wrist, the sunlight caught the stones and they gleamed softly.

"That's an interesting collection of gemstones," the elder Weasley stated, quirking an eyebrow.

"But it's beautiful," the Weasley matriarch added warmly.

"I recognise those stones!" Granger exclaimed enthusiastically, snatching Potter's wrist so that she could hold it up higher in the air. She pointed at the amber. "This one gives general protection. This one," her finger slid to the peridot, "supposedly gives physical protection and the rose quartz is said to provide protection during the pregnancy and childbirth."

Draco stiffened a tad and cursed himself for not having done deeper research into the meanings of the stones. If he had done so, he wouldn't have been taken off guard now. _Of course_ his self before the attack would have gone into specifics when it concerned the matter of providing protection.

"You added protection for the baby?" Potter inquired and his voice sounded odd until he looked up rather shyly at the older man and Draco realised what he was hearing.

_Hope._

That was the tone in his voice.

At first Draco was confused; why would Potter sound hopeful when he asked about the protection for the baby? His confusion lasted until he suddenly discerned the reason and he grimaced slightly. Right, because he hadn't mentioned or wanted to talk about the baby at all since the attack.

Feeling rather uncomfortable, he looked away, ignoring the excited chattering going on around him. A touch on his hand had him quickly looking down before glancing up again, right into emerald green eyes.

"Thank you. I really – appreciate this. Thanks," Potter murmured with a soft smile as his fingers drifted across the bracelet.

"You're welcome," Draco brought out and Potter nodded again before retracting his hand.

The warmth of his touch wouldn't leave Draco for hours afterwards.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: Rather mild chapter compared to the previous ones, but it can't be filled with constant drama, right? ;)
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on the 28th of July.
> 
> See you all in the next chapter!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: A couple of scenes in this one gave me quite a bit of trouble when writing them *sweatdrops* I hope it isn't too noticeable which ones they are *winces*
> 
> Thanks for the comments and the kudos!
> 
> Warnings: Hm, nothing that really requires a warning I think; except some time skips
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

_Chapter 6_

"So have you remembered anything at all regarding your relationship with Mister Potter?" Silver inquired, turning the parchment and jotting down something else.

"No, nothing," Draco answered clipped.

It was a bit more than a month since he had woken up after the attack and Silver had invited him for a check-up. The Healer had cast several spells and aside from the persisting amnesia he didn't suffer any aftereffects of the attack.

"Well, it's been only a month," Silver muttered, writing something down. Dark brown eyes lifted from the parchment and fixated him with a studious look. "How are you and Mister Potter getting along, considering the circumstances?"

"Well, I suppose," Draco replied stiffly, wanting nothing more than to return to Malfoy Manor to brew the rest of the Muscle Relaxer Draught.

"Have you discussed your relationship?"

"We've had a talk about it, yes."

Silver raised an eyebrow, leaning back into his chair. "Overall, how are you settling in? Are there any problems with taking up your daily life?"

Draco released his breath slowly, crossing his legs. "I didn't lose all my memories," he reminded the Healer. "Just the ones dealing with my relationship with Potter, so it's not like I have any trouble going back to my daily life."

"How are your friends and family dealing with this?"

"They are under the impression that it's their right to stick their noses into my business," Draco replied coolly; his hands tightening around the arms of his chair.

Since Potter's birthday two weeks ago they had remarkably well refrained from urging him to talk more with Potter. It was as clear as day, however, that they expected him to remember _something_ every time he saw them; 'subtly' asking him how he and Potter were doing. It was becoming quite aggravating. They seemed to think his amnesia would be gone from one day to the next and they had the gall – at least Pansy did; Blaise to a lesser degree – to look disappointed when he gave them vague answers to their questions.

_No, he and Potter hadn't discussed their relationship in more detail since the party._

_No, they hadn't discussed the baby yet either._

_Yes, he was certain that he still remembered fuck all about his relationship with Potter._

He wished they would finally stop badgering him about it. It hadn't been even two months – couldn't they just give him a break?

"I'm sure they mean it well," Silver murmured, frowning at whatever he was reading in his notes.

Draco sneered; he didn't care whether they meant well – he just wanted to be left alone and not have to answer questions about Potter every damn time he saw them. You'd think they were the ones in love with the speckled git.

"I have a suggestion," Silver said, placing his notes abruptly on his desk.

Draco quirked an eyebrow. "What?"

"In some cases, it helps amnesiac patients if they see the memories they lost. Like pictures for example. They can help kick the part of the brain in gear where the memories are stored," Silver explained. "It's not a sure-fire way of getting your memories back – it might not even work, but it's worth a try."

"I already looked at some pictures and I remembered absolutely nothing," Draco retorted, shaking his head.

That earned him a contemplative look. "Have you tried viewing memories in a Pensieve?"

"No, I haven't," Draco admitted begrudgingly.

The Healer nodded. "You might want to give that a try then. It's possible that viewing the memories will bring forth the ones you lost."

"So it's not a permanent loss?" Draco asked sceptically.

Silver paused and cocked his head thoughtfully to the right. "I'm not entirely certain," he admitted and a vague hint of annoyance tainted his voice. For someone who always managed to find the answer to any illness plaguing a Malfoy, Draco's memory loss must be aggravating him now. "It hasn't been two months yet since you woke up and regaining memories can take days to weeks to months to sometimes even years. Sometimes they are indeed completely lost, but I wouldn't say with certainty that that is the case for you, Mister Malfoy. Viewing memories in a Pensieve would be a good start."

The only one who would have the suitable memories that he had lost, was Potter. Draco couldn't say he was looking forward to asking him about them.

* * *

"There are three owls waiting for you," Father mentioned offhandedly when Draco walked past the living room.

Draco paused in front of the doorway. "Anyone known?"

"Two owls I do not recognise, but the third one belongs to Potter," Father replied without looking up from the document he was reading. His tone was neutral, not giving anything away. "How was your visit with Healer Silver?"

"Fine. There are no other effects from the attack and I still don't remember anything," Draco answered, studying the older blond carefully.

"That's a shame," Father murmured and he sounded partly genuine, partly gleeful.

"You and Potter don't get along, hm?" Draco remarked, quirking an eyebrow.

So far Potter's interaction with father during their weekly lunch had been rather stilted and both seemed to prefer not acknowledging each other. It was a stark contrast with how Potter acted with mother; the two of them shared such a close bond, it could rival that of Draco's relationship with the older woman.

Dark grey eyes looked up at him. "As your mother would say: the history between us cannot be easily forgotten," he retorted, flipping the page he had been perusing. "He and I will never see eye to eye, I'm afraid."

Draco had lost all his memories of his relationship with Potter, but he had no trouble imagining that his father had been far happier when he had heard Draco's intention to court Astoria Greengrass than he had been when he had heard of his engagement to Potter. Not that Draco could really blame him for that.

"I'm going to check the post. I'll be here brewing for the rest of the day," he informed Lucius and the older blond nodded in acknowledgement; his attention fully focused on the document again.

Two tawny brown owls were waiting patiently for him on the perch near the door of the backyard. One carried a letter from a Mediwizard of Saint Mungos, requesting an additional batch of the stronger version of the Sleeping Draught. The other owl had a letter from an Irish Potions Master, containing the information of a couple of apothecaries which sold the more obscure ingredients. He sent a letter of thank you with the second owl and gave the letter of his agreement with the order to the first, who softly hooted before following the other owl outside.

"Now where's Potter's owl?" he murmured with a slight frown, noting the absence of the third owl.

Potter no longer had his snow white owl; instead he had acquired the complete opposite of his first one. His owl now had a striped black and white breast, vent and belly while the rest of his body was a sooty black colour. The first time Draco had encountered it in the house, the bird had scared the crap out of him when he had found it staring back at him from its cage with deep, reddish brown eyes.

The owl was nowhere near the perch or in the rest of the hallway and the frown on his face deepened. Where on earth could that owl be?

"Kin!" he called out and snapped his fingers.

Instantly a house elf with a long, pointy nose popped into existence in front of him. "Yes, Master Draco Malfoy?" he said, staring up at his master with dark brown eyes.

"Where's Potter's owl?"

Kin blinked. "Master Potter's owl is waiting in Master Draco Malfoy's lab, sir."

"What on earth is it doing there?" Draco asked perplexed, ignoring for the moment how the house elf was calling Potter his master.

Kin rubbed his hands together nervously. "Master Potter's owl always sits there when he comes with a message for Master Draco Malfoy, sir."

"Fine, you can go back to your previous task," Draco muttered, already striding towards his lab before the house elf had bowed and disappeared.

Candles lit up the darkened room automatically when he descended the steps and he found Potter's owl indeed waiting for him on an empty worktable, staring at him intently.

"All right, what do you have for me?" Draco sighed, holding out his hand.

What could possibly be this important that Potter couldn't wait until tonight to tell him about it?

The owl promptly stuck out his leg, offering the letter to him. Keeping a wary eye on the sharp beak, Draco accepted the letter and watched how the owl hopped over the table and then flew to the back of the room where …

Oh, that explained why Potter's owl waited here instead of on the usual perch. Draco hadn't noticed it before, but at the back of the lab there was a perch with a small bowl of owl treats attached to it. Right when he took his wand to levitate the perch upstairs – potions labs were supposed to be hygienic to prevent interference with foreign substances, damn it. Owl perches and treats weren't allowed to be near any potion ingredients – he caught the shimmer of the charm meant to create a barrier between the lab and the perch.

He didn't know whether it had been him or Potter who had set up the charm, but he supposed this meant his potions weren't in danger of being contaminated at least. He wasn't particularly happy with it, but at least the charm kept his lab safe.

Putting his wand away, he turned his attention to the letter in his hand and opened it. It was not a letter, but more a short note.

_Draco_

_Something came up, which connects to your case. I'll be later home tonight._

_There's still some shepherd's pie left from last night that you can warm up tonight for dinner._

_Love_

_Harry_

Well, that would guarantee him a couple of more peaceful hours to brew then. He wasn't about to complain about that, given the new orders he had just received.

"No reply," he told the owl when the bird stared at him expectantly.

Instead of flying away, however, the owl's stare seemed to intensify and he hopped onto the table again, spreading his wings a bit.

Draco snorted, vanishing the short note. "You're just wasting your time now. There's no reply."

The owl hooted softly in reproach, but he simply turned around and ignored it, walking to the shelf where he stored his cauldrons.

One more angry hoot and then the owl was gone and Draco could finally brew in peace.

* * *

He only became aware of how much time had passed since he had entered his lab when he was distracted out of his contemplation of the potion by a loud grumble. He blinked and halted the ladle right above the cauldron as another grumble resounded. With a grimace, he lowered the ladle on the workbench and used a Tempus Charm to check the time.

A quarter to eight. Fuck, no wonder his stomach felt strangely hollow. He hadn't had anything to eat or drink since that quick lunch right before he had returned to the manor.

"Guess I'm done for today," he muttered and set about cleaning the table.

A sample of the potion he was trying out was poured into a copper vial and put away in one of the lower cupboards. The rest of the potion was vanquished and the cauldron and the rest of the instruments were thoroughly cleaned before they were put away in their respective places.

After dousing the lights and spelling the door shut, he told his parents goodbye, ignoring mother's raised eyebrow when she caught sight of the time.

When he arrived at the house, he was surprised to see that there were no lights on anywhere. Sure, given that it was August it was still plenty light outside, but the house tended to get pretty dark around this hour.

"Potter?" Draco called out, removing his robes. There was no answer; only silence greeted him.

So he wasn't home yet then.

He warmed up the left-overs of the shepherd's pie and sat down with it at the table to read the Evening Prophet while ignoring the penetrating gaze of Potter's owl. It figured he would have an owl like that.

There was not something really newsworthy in the paper; there was talk about a wizard named Art Greenling wanting to run for the position of Minister of Magic, but even the paper doubted he would stand a chance against Kingsley Shacklebolt. He would have if it had still been Fudge, but Shacklebolt was too popular and too effective at his job for Greenling to be a threat to him.

He was just putting the dirty dishes into the sink when the fireplace in the other room flared to life loudly; the flames sputtering and crackling noisily, followed by some stumbling and a soft curse.

"Draco?" Potter called out as the noise of the flames died out.

"In the kitchen."

Potter entered the kitchen with a weird look on his face, still clad in his Auror robes. "The cases are all connected," he announced out of the blue, striding over to the kettle to make some tea.

"Didn't you already know that?" Draco raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the sink.

"We were around ninety percent sure, yes," Potter replied, waving his hand in the air before pointing his wand at the kettle to heat up the water. "But after today we're completely certain."

"Any particular reason for that?"

"You want some tea as well?" was the distracted question and Draco hummed affirmatively. Two cups were placed on the counter, joined by some teabags, sugar and milk.

"You remember we've been talking to the victims of the cases we suspected were similar to yours?" Green eyes regarded him expectantly before they glanced away when the kettle whistled, steam gently rising in the air.

A moment later the scent of raspberry and blackcurrant tea rose up and a cup was pressed in Draco's hand.

"Yes, did they mention something new?"

Potter rolled his eyes and snorted, leaning against the counter while blowing softly over his cup. "Most of them weren't really forthcoming with their information, not even when we showed them their testimony. Of the eleven other victims only four of them admitted that they lost memories of their romantic partner. One said he wasn't interested in anyone and six others claimed they just had lost some memories of a family member." It was clear from his tone that he didn't believe the other victims at all.

"And you don't believe them, because …?" Draco trailed off with a light frown.

Had these few years of being an Auror already made the dark haired man as paranoid as Moody had been?

"Because I could see they were lying through their teeth. They clearly didn't get the same lessons as you and some other Purebloods did," Potter stated matter-of-factly and before Draco could demand he explained what he meant with that remark, the younger man continued, "Sure, they didn't lie about the part of them being a family member, but they weren't _just_ a family member. They're talking about their boyfriends and girlfriends."

"What makes you think that?"

"We'll have to interview those six again to confirm our suspicion, but it was the visit we got today and the four other testimonies which make it clear that the cases are all connected – even if some don't want to be honest."

"Still waiting for that explanation, Potter."

Potter sipped from his tea, before returning the cup to the counter and crossing his legs. "All right, so we already have four people admitting that they lost their memories of their romantic relationship, just like you," he stated, looking at Draco pointedly. The blond wizard merely stared back blankly.

"Anyway," Potter cleared his throat and went on, "A few hours ago we got a visit from a woman named Madeline Rook. She's a friend of Jonathan Passer – the victim who said he wasn't interested in anyone. It was the only one my team and I had an argument about, because while he gave the same description of the attackers are you and the rest, he didn't appear to have lost any memories."

"Then why include him in the list?" Draco inquired, sceptic about the reason.

"Because he actually does fit the profile! The only reason why there's no mention of a romantic partner being forgotten is because there hadn't been a relationship to speak of!"

"Then he doesn't fit the profile. If one of the criteria is forgetting your romantic partner and he wasn't in a relationship, he can't fit the profile," Draco argued and scoffed, crossing his arms. "I expected better from an Auror."

"Let me finish," Potter retorted sharply. "This is where Madeline Rook comes in. She was there when we interviewed Passer. Passer has apparently been in love for months with a woman from the Blackwood family. He had his entire courtship planned out and had told his friends he would soon initiate the courting. A couple of days later he was attacked. Rook realised something was off when Passer hadn't mentioned anything about Blackwood for several days afterwards. When she confronted him about it, he claimed not to know who she was talking about. She showed him the plans he had made, but he couldn't remember a single thing about them."

"But why attack Passer? I don't even recognise his name," Draco murmured, trying to recall whether he had ever heard one of the Death Eaters mention a name like that. While having fallen out of the Dark Lord's grace soon after the war really broke out, he thought he would have recognised a name like that.

"He was suspected of being a Death Eater. None of the Aurors assigned to his case ever managed to prove it, though," Potter admitted, picking up his cup again. "But apparently the suspicion was a strong enough reason for whoever is behind these attacks," he added, frowning heavily.

"So what? This group is going around attacking Death Eaters or suspected ones and coming up with nothing better than to remove memories of their relationships?" Draco wondered aloud.

What was the point of that? Sure, attacking out of revenge – misguided or not- that he could understand, but why remove the memories of a romantic relationship? What was the whole point behind that? What did they have to gain by doing that?

"Apparently. Why they do that is something we still don't know – and probably won't know until we catch whoever is behind this," Potter said frustrated and ran a hand through his hair. "We're going back to the six other victims tomorrow. Maybe we should focus on the people who knew about their relationship and could have a reason to harm them for it."

"You're going to interview the Weasleys as well then?" Draco smiled sharply, raising an eyebrow.

"Don't be ridiculous!" Potter snapped, glaring at him. "None of them would ever do something like that."

Personally Draco thought that the remaining Weasley twin might be capable of doing something like that. From what he had heard the older man never had quite recovered from losing his twin brother during the war.

People had done worse things for lesser reasons after all.

Tense silence reigned for a while before Potter sighed, his shoulders slumping a bit. "So, how did your check-up go?" he questioned, voice forcibly light-heartened.

Draco shrugged, putting his nearly completely drained cup in the sink. "It went well. There are no other side effects aside from the amnesia. Now if you don't mind, I have to check a few more books for my potion before I go to sleep."

"Wait!"

Holding back a sigh, Draco turned to face Potter, who was worrying his lower lip between his teeth. "What?"

"I, eh, there might be something that could help your amnesia," Potter started nervously, tapping his fingers against the counter. "What if – what if I put some memories of us in a Pensieve and you could look through them? See if maybe that might spark something?"

Draco stiffened. "Did you talk to Silver?" he asked sharply, anger spiking at the thought of Potter going behind his back to talk to his Healer.

Potter looked taken aback; his emerald green eyes widening a tad. "What? No! Why would I have - "

"Then why suddenly this suggestion if you didn't - "

"Hermione has been doing some research!" Potter cut him off exasperatedly. "We had lunch together today and she suggested that we could try putting memories in a Pensieve and see if that would trigger anything. What the hell does Silver have to do with this?"

"He suggested the same thing today," Draco answered stiffly, pursing his lips.

"Oh." Potter licked his lips and asked hopefully, "Well, what do you think of it? Do you want to try it out?"

"I suppose; it can't really hurt anyway," Draco muttered and left before Potter could insist they try it out now.

He had better things to do than stuff his head into a Pensieve to look at memories he had no interest in.

* * *

A couple of days later, on Sunday, Draco took a short break from entertaining Teddy by retreating to the room he had dubbed his bedroom now to read some correspondence of potential customers.

A knock on the door broke through his focus and he blinked, looking up from a letter of a witch requesting a love potion. "Yes?"

Potter opened the door and remained hovering in the doorway – without Teddy.

"You're sure it's safe to leave Teddy downstairs on his own?" Draco questioned, placing the letter next to him.

The dark haired man shrugged. "He's looking through a picture book now; he'll be distracted for a while," he told the blond and then his demeanour changed, his arms coming up to hug himself, resting on top of his stomach – which had become bigger now that Draco had a good look at it. "Eh, I put the memories into a Pensieve."

"Oh." Draco blinked, thrown off guard by how quickly Potter had managed to get his hands on a Pensieve and fill it with memories.

"Yes, so, eh, you can watch the memories if you want to," Potter continued, audibly nervous.

"I'll do it later," Draco said dismissively, turning his attention to the next letter waiting for him. Perhaps that one would offer him a more interesting potion to brew than the love potion.

He had thought Potter would return downstairs, but of course the younger wizard had to defy his expectations once again and remained standing in the doorway.

"Do you need something else?" Draco asked, a tad impatient.

Potter took a deep breath, seemed to steel himself and replied, "I have my next check-up for the baby on Thursday afternoon at two o'clock. We'll find out whether we're going to have a girl or a boy then. I'd like you to come with me."

Grey eyes stared at the man in front of him for a while and Draco mulled it over, checking mentally what kind of commitments he had for the upcoming week. There was nothing urgently to be done on Thursday he realised; he still had some brewing planned, but nothing that had an immediate deadline.

"Fine, I'll come with you," he muttered, not having any good reason to decline.

The warm smile he received in response made him feel quite funny for a while – he wasn't entirely certain whether he liked that.

_Bloody Potter._

* * *

"Come on, where is it?" Draco muttered annoyed, pacing back and forth along the shelves, trying to find the elusive potions book he had been searching fruitlessly for, for the past twenty minutes. He checked his watch briefly and clucked his tongue; his irritation rising up a notch.

It was already a quarter past twelve and he still needed to pay and eat lunch before he would have to go to Saint Mungos to join Potter for the check-up. Mother would kill him if he didn't show up now. Last time he had had the excuse of being attacked and unconscious, but he had no such excuse now.

_Where was that bloody book?!_

"Draco? Is everything all right?"

Starting at the unexpected voice, he whirled around, ignoring the dark muttering of a wizard behind him.

Astoria stood at the beginning of the aisle; blue eyes gazing at him in surprise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: So what do you think of it? I hope it wasn't too bad!
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me!
> 
> I see you all in the next chapter, which will be posted on the eleventh of August!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: The beginning gave me a bit of trouble, but at least I managed to finish it on time.
> 
> Thanks for the comments and the kudos! They really make me happy!
> 
> Warnings: foul language; some drama
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

_Chapter 7_

"You look a bit … worked up," Astoria remarked carefully; her arm pressing a thick book against her chest.

Draco pressed his lips together, irritation surging up once more, before he inclined his head and took a step away from the shelves. "I've been trying to find a particular potions book for a while now," he admitted begrudgingly. "I can't say I'm being very successful with it."

"I could help you look, if you want," she offered, stepping closer. "What's the title?"

He eyed her carefully and replied, "Cross' Encyclopaedia of Long Forgotten Plants and Gems."

The book had been written around a century ago by a Potions Master in France whose life mission had been to document every plant and gem he could get his hands on. His work included both known plants and gems and lesser known ones – rare ones or ones that had been forgotten by most wizards and witches. Draco was mainly interested in the forgotten ones, wanting to figure out whether he could use some of those for his own potions. According to the information he had received, one of the last remaining copies of the book was sold in this bookstore and he wanted to get his hands on it before anyone else had the chance to snatch it away.

Finding that damn book was proving a lot more difficult than he had anticipated, though, and with time ticking away fast, he accepted Astoria's help readily.

While she covered the left side of the large bookcase, he started looking through the shelves on the right again. Shelf after shelf he studied and dismissed as none of them had the book. He started wondering whether the information he had received had been wrong or whether someone else had been quicker than him. Both were possible and both irritated the hell out of him.

Another glance at his watch warned him that it was already half past twelve and he scowled. There was no way he would be able to find the book on time and still get some lunch before Potter expected him for the check-up.

_Goddamn it!_

"Is it perhaps this book you're looking for?" Astoria asked, breaking the silence all of a sudden. She had placed her own book on the second to last lower shelf and was holding up a thick, dusty tome.

The once shiny, golden letters had faded to a dull yellow and were peeling off the cover at some places. The title was still clear enough to confirm that this book was indeed _Cross' Encyclopaedia of Long Forgotten Plants and Gems_. The one he had been searching for – how the hell had he missed such a thick book?

"That's the one, yes," he replied, accepting the heavy tome. He browsed through it carefully, taking note of the fragile pages and the faded pictures. The old, musty scent of a book not having been opened in a long time hit him full in his face and he wrinkled his nose slightly. Well, that didn't matter. He had his book now; that was the most important part. "Thank you for helping me."

"It's not a problem," she smiled, brushing a chestnut brown curl behind her ear. "I know all too well the frustration of not finding a book you want."

"Frustration is one way to put how I felt," he agreed dryly, closing the book.

"Well, I'm glad I could help you out," she said, picking up her own book. "I was thinking - " She was abruptly cut off by her stomach growling softly and her face coloured red as she glanced down embarrassed.

Oddly amused at her reaction, he suggested, "Why don't we have lunch together? Consider it a thank you for finding the book for me."

"Oh no, you don't have to do that. There's no need to thank me for something like finding a book," she protested, absentmindedly tapping her nails – painted a very delicate rose – against the cover of her book.

"Why eat lunch alone when I can have good company?" he questioned rhetorically and she smiled, dipping her head acquiescently.

They both paid for their books – Draco ignoring the way the shop owner was eyeing him – and made their way outside; the blistering heat of the sun enveloping them instantly.

"Perhaps we could eat at the Golden Rose?" Astoria suggested, stepping out of the way of a witch hurrying past them. "I've been told they serve excellent food."

"Sounds good," Draco agreed, having heard the same rumours about the restaurant. It was situated in one of the side alleys, which hosted mostly expensive restaurants and bars. Considering the price range it naturally tended to attract the more wealthy people.

They passed Flourish and Blotts and Slug and Jiggers Apothecary before turning right, entering Greenlit Alley, leaving the crowd behind them. Here in this street there were significantly less people mingling around, but the quality of their robes showed that they belonged to a higher class in society.

The Golden Rose had its establishment right in the middle of the street and true to its name, a garland hung above the entrance filled with perfectly shaped, golden roses which gleamed in the sunlight. Something else glittered at several places in the garland and Draco could only surmise those were trapped fairies.

The host smiled when they entered the restaurant. "Reservation or walk-in?" the wizard inquired, his wand resting on a large book.

"Walk-in," Draco replied, glancing around with interest. He had feared that the restaurant would overdo it with their theme of gold, but the touches of gold inside were tasteful instead of garish, mixed into the wooden tables like threads and spun into the midnight blue carpet. A single golden rose floated above each table and the walls were painted a lighter shade of blue than the carpet with wooden panels covering the walls in the middle, bearing candles.

"If you'd follow me," the wizard said and led them to a table for two, closer to the back of the restaurant. He handed them the wine and the lunch menu, stating, "If you have made your selection, please press on the options you'd like to have. Your order will be brought out shortly."

"Thank you," Astoria smiled and the dark brown haired man inclined his head before returning to the front of the restaurant.

Silence reigned for a moment between them as they each took the time to decide which food appealed to them the most. After making his selection – shepherd's pie with a simple red wine – Draco put the two menus down on the table and watched how they instantly disappeared; most likely returning to their stack.

He was studying a portrait of a meadow in which a doe was ambling around when he became aware of eyes resting on him and he turned his head slightly, catching Astoria's gaze.

"Something the matter?" he asked mildly, noticing how intently she was studying him.

She smiled wryly and glanced away for a few seconds before looking back. "This is none of my business, of course, but I was simply wondering whether you're feeling fine."

He blinked bemused. "I'm fine, why do you ask?"

"It's just …" She bit down on her lower lip, pulling attention to its fullness, before she sighed and curled a lock around her finger. "I know you were attacked almost two months ago – the papers reported about it," she explained, taking note of his surprise, before continuing haltingly, "and I couldn't help but notice that you and Mister Potter haven't been appearing together in public much afterwards."

How many times had he and Potter appeared in the newspapers for people to take notice of the lack of pictures now? What could have possibly been that interesting for the media to fill their pages with photos of them?

He concealed a snort when he realised how stupid his question sounded, even if only asked in his mind. Whatever Potter did was interesting for the papers. He could sneeze and they would take a picture of it if they were there. The reporters probably had had a field day when they got to hear that Potter was bent.

"Draco?" Astoria's voice broke through his thoughts and he shook his head.

"What do you know about the attack?" he asked, avoiding her question for the moment. He hadn't read any newspapers for a while after he had woken up in the hospital and so didn't know what exactly the papers had been reporting about him. He should have checked it, he realised dismayed, but he wasn't used to seeing himself appear in the newspapers. That had been rather remiss of him, considering being with Potter would have automatically put him in the spotlights. Any attack on him after his relationship with Potter had started would surely be covered in detail in the newspapers.

Astoria paused and took a sip from her glass of white wine which had popped up in front of her hand. "Not much," she admitted readily. "Mister Potter and your family were careful to keep the details out of the papers. I only know that you were attacked by a small group, who still haven't been caught, and that you were unconscious for a couple of days. The papers reported that you were completely healthy again when you left the hospital." The edge to her voice suggested she didn't completely believe the papers on that front.

He studied her, wondering how much he could reveal. Clearly his family had been careful to keep his amnesia out of the press; whether that was to protect him from intrusive questions or for another reason he couldn't guess. Not that he was particularly interested in answering reporters' questions, but why had they been careful to keep his amnesia a secret?

Was it perhaps to save Potter the embarrassment of having the world know that his own fiancé couldn't remember him as a romantic partner?

If that was indeed the reason, they could frankly piss off. He wasn't going to act all lovey-dovey with the other man just to keep up pretences for the public.

He didn't think Astoria would go blab to the press if she knew about his amnesia, though. There was nothing for her to gain by doing that. If he told her and she passed that information through to the press, he would immediately know it had been her and she wasn't stupid enough to bring a Malfoy's wrath down on her. Even with their reputation still being far from what it was before, other Pureblood families knew that the Malfoys could still ruin them if they wished to do so.

As he looked into clear blue eyes, he found himself giving in. Just once he wanted somebody on his side. Just once he wanted to talk about what had happened to him without the other person immediately expressing concern for Potter, as if he had been attacked instead of Draco. As if someone whose partner had forgotten their relationship was worse off than the person attacked and bereft of their memories.

A flick of his wand and a murmured spell later and a thick Privacy Shield popped into existence, preventing people from eavesdropping. They would still see the two of them sitting here, sharing a table, but they wouldn't be able to hear what was being discussed.

"I'd appreciate it if you keep quiet about what I'm going to tell you now," he said calmly, sipping from his own red wine. His shepherd's pie followed a few seconds later, appearing steaming on his plate.

"Of course; I wouldn't betray your confidence like that," Astoria replied, cutting smoothly through her smoked salmon.

He studied her face one more time, searching for any clues that she might be lying. Satisfied to find none, he stated, "During the attack they stole some of my memories. More specifically they stole the memories of my relationship with Potter."

She blinked and appeared a bit taken aback. Her voice was even, though, when she questioned, "You don't remember him at all?"

"I remember him up until the moment I supposedly became interested in him romantically," he corrected her, taking a bit from his shepherd's pie. It was cooled enough not to burn him and the exquisite taste exploded in his mouth, proving that the high prices guaranteed high quality food. "I don't remember how our relationship started or any moments I shared with him that didn't occur during Hogwarts."

"Oh my," she murmured, eyes widening slightly. "How are you coping with that? I can't imagine how strange this must be for you now."

He paused, surprised by her reply. He hadn't really expected her to pick Potter's side – after all, as far as he knew the two of them had never had any interaction with each other – but the concern she showed _for him_ took him by surprise. That was the reaction he had been expecting from his friends, but hadn't received. Why was she capable of showing such a reaction and not the people he considered to be his friends?

"What? Did I say something wrong?" Astoria asked concerned and he shook his head, taking another bite of the pie.

"No, you didn't," he reassured her. "I just hadn't expected your reaction. When my friends heard about my amnesia they appeared more concerned with how Potter was faring than how I felt about it." Some of the bitterness he felt towards Pansy's and Blaise's reactions slipped through.

Swallowing that bitterness down, he continued with a sneer, "They seemed to be under the impression that nothing would change between Potter and me and that things would go back to how they were before I lost my memories."

"With all due respect to your friends, but that is an inane expectation," Astoria spoke frankly. "I don't know you nor Mister Potter that well, but I do remember that you two did not see eye to eye during your years at Hogwarts. If you lost all your memories of your relationship with him, it would be idiocy to expect you to behave as if those memories are still present. Especially not when it hasn't even been two months since the attack. Amnesia often takes longer than that to be cured."

"If only my family and friends shared your opinion," he muttered darkly. "All they seem to want to do is push me towards Potter and hope that will somehow bring my memories back."

In a fit of boldness she briefly covered his hand with her own, squeezing it gently before she retracted hers again with a faint smile. "I'm sorry to hear that. You need time to adjust to your new situation – hopefully they will grant you that soon. Regardless, you can always talk to me if you need a listening ear."

"Thank you," he smiled and a part of him wished that this was how his family and friends would have reacted. If Astoria could show this kind of support, what was stopping them from doing the same?

Her eyes glittered when her smile deepened; her cheeks colouring a faint rose. "Thank you for trusting me with this," she murmured.

Needing a change of topic – dwelling too much on his amnesia and his family's way of coping with it would only serve to make him even more annoyed – he inquired lightly, "So what are you up to nowadays?"

If she was surprised at the abrupt change in topic, she didn't show it. "I'm working on developing new potions," she answered and her face lightened up. "Potions was my favourite class at Hogwarts and I want to create new ones. So far they're all just in the experimental phase, though. They're nowhere near ready to be ingested by people."

"Oh?" Draco leant forwards a bit, interest piqued. "If you don't mind my asking, what kind of potions are you working on?"

As Astoria explained the idea behind each potion she was working on, enthusiasm and determination laced through her voice, Draco found himself wondering once more what the hell could have made him decide to choose Potter instead of courting Astoria.

His past self was an idiot; that much had become clear.

* * *

When he returned to the house he shared with Potter he was in a much better mood than when he had left this morning. His conversation with Astoria had been interesting and he had delighted in exchanging ideas with a fellow student of the brewing art. Sure, he was in contact with other Potions Masters, but most of them were rather tight-lipped about their work, paranoid that others would steal their ideas. It was refreshing to discuss potions with someone who was equally enthusiastic about them without the paranoia.

The wards bent around him and snapped close as soon as he was behind them, preventing other people from following. Some birds were chattering quite loudly in the trees and bees were buzzing from one flower to the next as he made his way to the front door.

The hallway felt blessedly cool after the suffocating heat outside and he uttered a sigh of relief, removing his robes and shoes. With his purchase still in his hand, he walked to the kitchen, intent on getting a cool drink before he would retire to his room with his book. This late in the afternoon there was no point in venturing in his lab to work on some potions.

He came to an abrupt halt in the doorway when he noticed Potter seated at the kitchen table. Glancing at his watch, he asked, "What are you doing here so early? It's only … Shit." Dismayed he realised why exactly Potter was already here, staring at him with disturbingly flat eyes.

_Fuck, he had forgotten the check-up._

"Forgotten something?" Potter questioned coolly; his face utterly smooth, not betraying his thoughts at all.

It was a sharp contrast to how much of an open book he usually was and unease stirred inside the blond man. "I – lost track of time," he admitted begrudgingly, wondering just how safe it was for him to enter the kitchen completely. He couldn't immediately catch sight of Potter's wand and that set him on edge.

"You lost track of time," Potter repeated flatly; his left hand resting on top of his stomach. Green eyes shifted down, taking in the bag with the book inside. "Yes, I suppose shopping can make you lose track of time easily."

"It wasn't – I had finished my shopping on time, but lunch took longer than I expected," Draco replied tersely. He couldn't shake off the feeling that he was being interrogated at the moment; he couldn't say he liked the feeling.

"I know you like to take your time to enjoy your food, but lunch shouldn't have taken four hours," Potter retorted; a hard edge to his voice. He still hadn't moved, save for his hand which was caressing his stomach, but he didn't need to be in motion to look dangerous.

The older wizard suspected that admitting to having lunch with Astoria would be a very bad idea. He didn't know how much Potter knew about Astoria, but it was better not to mention her.

"I had lunch with someone who's also working with potions and we exchanged ideas," he said, settling on a slightly embellished version of the truth.

"Those ideas must have been quite something for you to miss the appointment," Potter riposted coldly; his eyes gleaming harshly.

"It's just an appointment, Potter," Draco said through gritted teeth, not appreciating being attacked in this manner. Yes, he had made a mistake, but did Potter really have to make such a big deal out of it? It wasn't like he had actually missed the birth of his child, just a check-up. There were probably still more to come before the due date.

"I asked you one simple thing, Draco!" Potter bit out; his left hand curling into a fist on his stomach. "You only had to accompany me to this check-up and you couldn't even do that?!"

"It's just a simple check-up, Potter!" Draco hissed, anger flaring up. "There will be more to come, so what does it matter that I missed this one? I didn't do it on purpose, you idiot, I just forgot. Fuck, you act like you never forgot an appointment in your life!"

"Because like it or not, this is still your child too!" Potter snapped and shot up from his chair; his hand resting on his wand. "You lost your memories of us, but that doesn't mean you can ignore our baby too! You're going to be a father in less than five months, start fucking act- "

"I know I'm going to be a father! It's not like either one of you will fucking shut up about it!" Draco retorted heatedly, taking a step closer. "Look, I apologise for missing this check-up, but it's not like I did it on purpose! I was discussing business with - "

Potter laughed harshly, cutting him off. "Oh yes, of course! Because business is more important than your own child, how could I have forgotten that?" he sneered; eyes flashing with anger.

"I didn't say that," Draco snapped, balling his hands into fists. "But you obviously did fine without me during your previous check-up, so I don't see why it bothers you so much that - "

"Because we would finally find out whether I'm expecting a girl or a boy, you fucking git!" Potter snarled and this time his wand sparked dangerously in reaction to his anger. "So it wasn't 'just a check-up', you bloody pillock, it was the most important one so far and you fucking missed it!"

He took a step closer to the blond and the air started to feel oppressive, heavy with magic and anger. "I know you lost your memories, but you fucking stood me up! I was waiting for you so you could finally see our baby and instead you're - " His voice cracked and he took a deep breath, looking away to compose himself.

Draco shifted his foot uncomfortably, wondering whether he should get ready to defend himself or not. Potter looked quite close to hexing him and while he might not have any memories of their relationship anymore, he remembered all too well how proficient Potter was in fighting.

"I'm going to Ron and Hermione," Potter announced abruptly, striding past Draco out of the kitchen.

"Wait, what?" Draco asked, baffled at the sudden turn of events. One minute it had looked like Potter would start throwing curses and now the younger man was suddenly leaving?

"I'll be back later," Potter went on, ignoring Draco, even as the blond tailed him to the fireplace. Right before he threw in the Floo powder, he turned towards Draco and said, "You probably won't care, but here." He took something from his pocket and threw it at the older man.

Draco snatched it out of the air, his old Seeker reflexes kicking in; curiosity blooming up in him despite their argument. When he studied it, he realised with a start he was looking at an ultrasound; the grainy image clearly showing the outline of a baby waving his or her arms around.

"It's a boy," was all Potter offered before the flames coloured green and roared to life, whisking him away.

Draco remained standing there in the middle of the room, staring at the ultrasound for a long time.

Feeling inexplicably remorseful.

* * *

True to his word, Potter returned a couple of hours later, looking exhausted and quite pale. Draco encountered him on the first floor, exiting his room right when Potter passed it.

"Potter, I'm - " he started, but the dark haired man cut him off with a shake of his head.

"Just forget it," he sighed, sounding tired. "I'm over it."

But he didn't look like it and Draco's stomach did an uncomfortable flip. Potter was almost at his bedroom when Draco said, "I'm sorry."

Potter paused, his hand resting on the doorknob, and inclined his head, entering his room without looking back once.

The sound of the door clicking close echoed through the corridor.

* * *

When Draco sat down for breakfast the next morning, the newspaper was smacked right in front of him, nearly hitting his face.

"Potter, what the hell is your problem?" Draco snapped, not appreciating the rude morning greeting until his eyes fell on the front page. A picture of him and Astoria sitting in the restaurant was plastered across the page, taking up nearly half of the available space, showing clearly how she touched his hand. The bold title above it was more than clear.

**Malfoy Heir Cheating on Pregnant Fiancé?**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: As you can see, the option boy won LOL
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me!
> 
> I hope to see you all back on the twenty-fifth for the next chapter!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I am honestly overwhelmed by the amount of reviews the previous chapter gathered :O I did not expect to receive that many, but naturally I'm not complaining in the slightest! I can only hope I can continue to meet your expectations!
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and the comments! I really appreciate them :)
> 
> Warnings: drama
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like this chapter!

_Chapter 8_

_Draco Malfoy was spotted with the youngest Greengrass daughter during lunch at the Golden Rose yesterday, the twenty-fourth of August. … Our reporter noticed how at ease both were around each other, dare she say even cosy? …_

_We wish we could tell you what they were talking about, dear readers, but a Privacy shield was erected around the both of them – which of course begs the question: why was a Privacy shield needed in the first place?_

… _As mentioned before, Mister Malfoy is no longer wearing his engagement ring. Our Hero, Harry Potter, informed us that his fiancé has taken to hiding his ring on a necklace underneath his clothes to protect it against stains. While this might have been the case originally, our reporter can state with a hundred percent certainty that no ring could be spotted on Draco Malfoy's person during lunch yesterday. Not even dangling on a necklace._

_What does this mean? Is the engagement over? Is there any other reason why Mister Malfoy would not be wearing his ring? …_

_In the worst case scenario: is our beloved Boy-Who-Lived-Twice being cheated on by the Malfoy heir? We do not have any answers to these questions yet, but rest assured we will uncover the truth. …_

… _We can only hope that things are not what they seem and our most famous couple after Merlin and Morgana are still happily together._

Grey eyes scanned the article, skipping over some sentences while focusing on others. All the while irritation grew and fingers tightened around the edges of the newspaper. How the hell had he missed a photo being taken of him? Where had the reporter been seated that they had managed to get such a clear picture of that moment?

 _Guess I can't let my guard down in public_ , he thought sourly, lifting his gaze up from the Daily Prophet.

A freezing green stare met him as the owner sat immobile like a statue across from him.

"I didn't know there was a reporter there," Draco muttered, shoving the newspaper to the side. If he had to look any longer at that large picture and that stupid article, he would set the paper on fire.

Potter raised an eyebrow. "No, I figured you didn't," he said coolly.

"Look, I don't know what your problem is now," Draco retorted impatiently, casting a look around to see whether there was any coffee. He needed the boost it would give him. "It was just lunch with Astoria."

"Lunch that took apparently four hours," Potter remarked blankly.

"We already went over this yesterday, Potter," Draco said annoyed, flicking his wand at the can with coffee. It Levitated towards him, landing with a soft 'thud' next to his cup.

"You didn't mention lunch was with _Astoria Greengrass_ at the _Golden Rose_."

"I told you I was discussing potions!"

"Yes, but not that you were discussing it with _her_!"

"What does it matter whether it was her or Blaise? What, you're jealous; Potter?" Draco asked mockingly, pouring coffee in his cup before placing the can back on the table. The dark, heavy scent of the coffee curled up into his nostrils and he breathed in deeply, wrapping his hand around the cup.

Potter clenched his jaw and glanced away, glaring at the newspaper. "I know what kind of connection you two had before, Draco."

Oh, well, he hadn't really expected that. It wasn't as if he had got far in his courtship for Astoria before he apparently decided that Potter was a better option for some god damn unknown reason. He knew there had been rumours, but he hadn't made any official announcement before he had got kidnapped. Had Potter been listening to the rumours?

"And if I know that, the papers surely know as well. I've done my best to keep your amnesia a secret, but with an article like this, they're going to start digging deeper and - "

"Why the hell does it matter whether they know about my amnesia or not?" It was a question which had been bothering him since the minute Astoria had let it slip that the papers only knew the barest minimum about the attack. Their lack of the knowledge certainly explained why they sounded so outraged in the article, defending the hero they had spurned many times before. Hypocrites, the lot of them.

Why would it be such a bad thing for the newspapers to know about it? He certainly didn't relish the thought of being hounded by questions, but it wasn't exactly a matter of life and death either. They might even back the fuck off or actually turn against Potter again and be on Draco's side. It wouldn't be the first time they switched their opinion on the dark haired wizard so quickly.

"Because I was trying to protect you and your business!"

Draco nearly choked in the sip of coffee he had just taken and he hastily set his cup down, smacking himself on his chest as he coughed. "Protecting me and my business?" he repeated in a rough voice, coughing for what hopefully was the last time. "What the hell are you on about? What does my amnesia have to do with my business?"

He knew that the git had quite the large hero complex, but this was just taking the cake. What did keeping his memory loss a secret have to do with protecting his business? Himself, he could somewhat understand; Potter's interference and lies had kept the press away from him so far. That was actually surprising, he realised, because normally the reporters didn't give up until they got their story. Maybe Potter had threatened them?

Whatever the case was, protecting him made sense somewhat, but he couldn't make head or tails of why his business needed to be protected as well. He had only lost his memories of their relationship, but his knowledge of potions and his recipes were all still safely locked inside his head. That had actually been the first thing he had checked after Healer Silver had informed him of his partial amnesia. He had used Legilimency on himself in order to ensure that his attackers hadn't stolen any other memories.

He only needed his knowledge about potions for his business to thrive; his memory loss had no connection to it whatsoever.

"Tell me, Draco," Potter began annoyed, "what do you think would happen if your clients heard about your memory loss?"

"Nothing would happen, because it doesn't affect my brewing skills," Draco bit out; his grip around the cup tightening slightly. Irritation continued to simmer in him, fuelled by how offended he felt at the question.

"You know that and I know that – but they don't. People are fickle as hell, surely you realise that? If they heard about your memory loss, they'd start doubting your skills regardless of what you'll tell them. They'd start wondering whether your amnesia doesn't extent to your potion knowledge as well," Potter retorted, shaking his head. "I'm not saying all of them would," he amended when Draco opened his mouth to reply, "but I didn't think you'd want to take that risk."

Draco frowned, closing his mouth as he mulled over Potter's explanation. It … actually wasn't that farfetched to think some of his clients would believe all his memories had been taken away. Some of them were rather dim-witted, but as long as they paid and didn't attempt to insult him, Draco didn't care how intelligent they were. Unfortunately those same dim-witted clients would start making assumptions if they heard about his memory loss. It would only take a few of them to start a rumour and Draco was well aware how quickly rumours could grow out of control. Even his good clients, the ones unlikely to be swayed by articles in the papers, could become wary and might try to test him. He would no doubt pass all their tests, but it would still be quite aggravating.

However that didn't mean he appreciated Potter trying to protect him like that. He didn't need his bloody protection; he could handle his business on his own. He had dealt with worse rumours before after all. Given his last name and the reputation clinging to it he doubted he would ever be completely free of rumours.

 _Not to mention_ , he thought with a mental scoff as he eyed the way Potter kept throwing scowls at the picture, _I wonder whether he's really worried about my business alone or more about the fact that I was having lunch with Astoria._

"As if you care," he sneered; skin pricking uncomfortably at the idea that Potter was jealous over him.

"Believe it or not, I actually do," Potter replied, sounding tired; his shoulders slumping slightly. His own hand was resting idly around a glass of water. "I know how much you care about your business and I don't want it to suffer because of rumours."

"How noble of you," Draco commented disparagingly. "If I needed your help, I would have asked you for it. You sure you're not more worried about the fact that I was having lunch with Astoria? Jealousy doesn't become you, I can assure you."

Deep green eyes shuttered close and Potter abruptly rose up from his chair. "I'm leaving," he announced flatly, throwing on his red Auror robes. "You might want to be careful if you go outside. The press is already lurking there."

"What?" Draco uttered stumped and abandoned his cup of coffee in order to stride into the living room where he could shove the curtains aside to take a look. He reeled back almost immediately, scowling at the sight of various reporters lingering at the edge of the wards, unable to come any closer, but equally unwilling to leave.

The second they spotted him, shouting erupted. "Mister Malfoy, what's your statement about the article in the Daily Prophet?"

"Is it true that you're no longer engaged to Harry Potter?"

"Are you going to release an official press statement or - "

"Silencio Tumultum," Draco snapped annoyed and instantly a new ward enveloped the house, forming an invisible blockage against the reporters' shouting. The noise was drowned out, absorbed by the ward; he could see their mouths moving, their faces growing steadily redder and redder as they kept shouting their questions, but it was blissfully silent in the house.

"Told you," Potter's voice drifted over from somewhere behind him and he whirled around, his scowl intensifying as he gestured at the window in disgust.

"Can't you do something about it?" he demanded. Even with the ward, he was acutely aware of the mob outside and he had no desire to go outside while those cockroaches were still there.

Potter shrugged laconically; his hand coming up to snatch some files out of the air, which he had presumably summoned from upstairs. His robes looked plastered against his body, drawing attention to his rounded stomach. "If I could, don't you think I would have done so already?" he questioned resignedly. "Unless they actually attack or try to break through the wards, there's nothing that can be done against them. Except waiting them out. I at least managed to get them to agree to only wait in front of the house for one day, so tomorrow they should be gone."

"If you could get them to agree to only stalk the house for one day, why couldn't you get them to agree to not show up here in the first place?" Draco inquired irritated; his fingers twitching near his wand. "You have fame, use it."

"Freedom of press," Potter answered, sounding like he had had this argument plenty of times before. "My hands are tied, Draco. There's nothing I can do unless they break the law first."

"God, you're bloody useless," Draco growled, turning back to glare out of the window where three new reporters had joined the mass.

Not rising to the bait, Potter said brusquely, "I'll see you tonight." The sound of the Floo flaring up soon followed and Draco was left alone in the house with the reporters drumming as closely to the house as they could get without setting off the wards.

_Great._

Any other day and the presence of the press wouldn't have aggravated him this much; after all he could still use the Floo and there was no way for the press outside to know where he would be Flooing to. Except today, instead of brewing, he had planned to go to a forest a couple of miles away from here. He needed to harvest some plants which only grew there in order to continue his brewing and the plants' characteristics made it so that Flooing was out of the question. If he took those plants with him in the Floo, all their properties would turn to dust – quite literally.

No plants meant no brewing and him being confined into the house unless he wanted to try to worm his way through that group of reporters.

He chanced another look outside and grimaced, stepping back and letting the curtains fall back into place. They looked a bit too fanatical for his taste. Considering the title which had 'graced' the paper's frontpage, he couldn't say he was surprised.

Frustrated, even angry, yes, but not surprised.

"Damn it," he sighed, rubbing his forehead. Well, there was nothing to it, he guessed. He would be spending the day here it seemed. It would at least give him more time to read through the rest of the book he had bought yesterday.

First, however, he would finish his breakfast.

* * *

After having eaten his breakfast and done the dishes – using magic, naturally – he settled himself on the couch in the living room, a cup of tea nearby and the thick book on his lap.

He was sitting in plain view of the reporters – his revenge on them. They could see him sitting there, basically right in front of them, but the wards wouldn't allow them to come any closer and the newly added ward prevented their noisy questions from being heard.

It was petty revenge, yes, but it still gave him a sense of satisfaction to witness them getting more worked up and desperate for an answer with each hour that passed by.

A soft 'hoot' made him look up and he quirked an eyebrow when a familiar tawny owl – even if he hadn't seen it in years – flew quietly to his side, landing on the coffee table in front of him. He stuck his paw out, showing off the letter tied to it.

"Didn't expect to see you here," Draco muttered, closing his book and placing it next to him on the couch before leaning forwards to accept the letter. As soon as the owl was relieved of his burden, he stretched out his wings, turned around and hopped over the table before flying away again, disappearing through the open window in the kitchen.

So he hadn't been instructed to wait for a reply. That only made Draco's curiosity grow.

' _Dear Draco,_

_I know that it is perhaps not the wisest decision I can make at this time to contact you, given the recent events in the newspapers, but I wanted to offer my apologies._

_I did not know that there would be a reporter present at the restaurant and I am not at all happy that they took that photo without us being aware of it._

_That said, I am pretty certain that the potential backlash will fall more onto you than onto me and for that I apologise. It was not my intention to get this rumour mill set in motion and I can only hope the article and accompanying photo did not cause any trouble between you and Mister Potter._

_Nevertheless I am still willing to lend you a listening ear, should you be in need of it. Perhaps it would be better, though, to have those conversations at a more private place in order not to create even bigger rumours._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Astoria Greengrass'_

It irritated Draco to no end that she was correct in wanting to keep their future conversations more privately. They shouldn't have to, though, because they weren't doing anything wrong. What was the issue with sharing lunch with a woman? Since when did a freaking engagement – one he couldn't even remember committing to – mean he couldn't eat with or talk to a witch? What right did the press have to create these rumours about him?

This was all just so ridiculous!

His scowl back into place, he folded the letter and stuffed it in the back of his book, before settling down again on the couch and picking up his reading where he had left of.

If he had to wait out the bloody press, he would at least do something useful in the meantime and continue his reading.

* * *

When Potter returned that evening, they didn't mention the paper again and ate dinner mostly in silence.

The last reporter left the street at eleven p.m.

* * *

"Andromeda firecalled me last night," Potter announced as Draco slipped his shoes on. The dark haired man was hovering in the doorway of Draco's bedroom, arms crossed on top of his stomach. "Asked me whether we would mind having Teddy over for the entire day tomorrow, because she's going to visit some friends."

"I don't mind," Draco sighed, snatching his wand from his nightstand and pocketing it. The little boy was more fun to be around than he had expected and having him at the house the entire day wouldn't be that bad.

"You ready to go?" Potter inquired, lowering his arms to the sides, and cocking his head faintly to the right.

It was time for their weekly lunch at Malfoy Manor and Draco wasn't particularly looking forward to it. There was no doubt in his mind that his parents had read the newspaper yesterday and he was certain at least his mother would have something to say about it. Father clearly didn't care about Potter and wouldn't give him shit about having lunch with Astoria, but mother was obviously fond of Potter – her fondness increased by the fact that the git was carrying her first grandchild – and she would most likely get on his case about it.

He would have skipped the lunch if he had a valid reason, but he still had to gather those plants for his potion and while he could use the search for them as an excuse not to go, Narcissa would point out that he could have collected the plants after their lunch.

An offended Narcissa was a dangerous one.

So Draco just had to grit his teeth, bear any possible scolding, and then he could go and harvest his plants. It was just lunch, he could do this.

"Lead the way," he muttered, closing the door behind him.

Potter barely had the time to open the jar with Floo powder before the flames flashed green and crackled loudly, signalling an incoming Floo call.

"Ron?" Potter questioned surprised when Weasley's head popped into the fireplace.

Draco barely resisted the urge to sneer; even the flames clashed with that horrible ginger hair.

"Sorry, mate, I know you're on your way to lunch, but you're needed at the office," Weasley said, casting a quick glance at Draco. The blond man stared back unimpressed and Weasley rolled his eyes before addressing Potter again. "You remember Alexander Rooks?"

Potter furrowed his eyebrows; his hand still lingering on top of the jar. "The first victim who lost his memories, right? Did he show up with more information?"

"He showed up, all right," Weasley replied grimly. His face contorted into an ugly grimace when he continued, "His wife found him dead in their garden. It seemed like he was killed somewhere else before being dumped there."

"Fuck," Potter whispered, running his hands through his hair.

"Yeah, so Kingsley's calling everyone for a meeting."

"Yeah, 'course. I'll be right behind you," Potter muttered and Weasley nodded before disappearing. Green eyes turned to look at Draco apologetically. "Sorry, Draco, but can you tell your parents I'm sorry I have to miss lunch? I can't miss this meeting."

The first victim was found dead? Most likely it was just coincidence – especially if he had been a Death Eater or was suspected of being one. The people who had attacked Draco probably weren't the only ones wanting to take revenge on Death Eaters. Better him than Draco, though, he decided remorselessly.

"Sure, go on. Your presence will be dearly missed," Draco answered sardonically, waving his hand dismissively.

The frown on Potter's forehead increased – and if he wasn't careful, his face would get stuck in that unfortunate look – and he appeared on the verge of saying something, before shaking his head with a sigh and grabbing a pinch of Floo powder.

"Griffin's Office!" he called out and was within a couple of seconds swept away by the green fire.

"Griffin's Office? How original," Draco muttered mockingly and snorted. Trust Potter and Weasley to come up with a name like that. They really had no taste at all.

When the fire turned green next it was to whisk him away to Malfoy Manor.

* * *

"You're not going to say anything at all?" Draco asked sceptically, nursing a glass of Elven wine; ignoring the buzzing of the bees in the rose bushes behind him.

Father had just gone back inside to deal with some correspondence, but Draco and his mother were still sitting at the table outside, enjoying the summer day now that they still had the chance. Soon it would be September and the weather would most likely turn foul then.

She raised an eyebrow and regarded him calmly, stirring her spoon through her cup of Earl Grey tea. "Am I not saying anything at all, dear? I thought we were having a nice conversation about your upcoming projects," she commented mildly.

He scowled at her, placing his glass on the table. "You know what I'm talking about. I know you read the paper yesterday," he said flatly. "You're not going to say anything about that?"

He had been anticipating her chiding from the moment he had set foot in the manor without Potter, explaining why the other wizard couldn't be present today. Lunch had gone by, together with a delicious dessert in the form of a strawberry cheese cake, and yet she still hadn't mentioned anything about the picture or the article. Her silence was enough to put him on edge.

The spoon paused and she crossed her legs daintily; her golden blonde hair glistening in the sunlight. "I read the paper yesterday, yes," she admitted, still infuriatingly calm.

"And?" He couldn't mask the undercurrent of impatience in his voice and he wished she would just hurry up with her scolding, so they could get past this.

"And what?"

He narrowed his eyes, distrustful of her flippant reply. "You're not going to scold me about it?"

She uttered a small sigh and took a small sip from her tea. The cup clicked softly when she put it back on its small plate. "Would that change anything? Considering your past with Miss Greengrass, I'm not entirely happy you chose to share lunch with her at that place, but you're no longer a child I can guide. All I ask is that you be careful."

"Yes, I know, Merlin forbid precious Potter gets his feelings hurt," he sneered, taking a large sip from his wine.

"I ask you to be careful for yourself, my Dragon," she said cryptically and before he could demand she explained herself, she directed his attention to the latest rumour she had picked up in the circles about Jonathan Breeks attempting to court a cousin twice removed of Pansy.

And that was all that was said about the article.

 _How anticlimactic._ He was almost disappointed.

* * *

The sun was still high in the sky when Draco followed the road to the house he shared with Potter. He had just come back from the forest where he had harvested the necessary plants and he was carrying them in a large bag; each one sealed into its own container. He would need to send them to his lab on Monday morning, because even Apparition risked ruining their properties and he didn't want to delay the brewing of the potion any longer. The sooner that draught was done, the sooner he could focus on the rest of his orders.

At least the client paid well; that was the only reason why he was even brewing this complicated draught.

A 'pop' right behind him had him whirling around instantly, his wand raised in the air. As soon as his eyes fell on the mysterious person Apparating behind him he huffed in annoyance and lowered his wand again.

"What are you doing here, Granger?" he asked curtly, wondering whether Potter had invited her over. If he had done so, a warning would have been appreciated, the prick.

She quirked an eyebrow and pushed a lock of her stubborn, bushy hair back behind her ear. "I'm checking up on Harry. Ron Floo called me, saying Harry had gone home because he wasn't feeling well," she explained calmly, unperturbed by the fact that his wand was still in view. "Ron would have gone, but Kingsley still wanted to discuss something with him."

"What, Potter can't take care of himself?" Draco sneered, turning around again and continuing his trek to the house. Did the almighty Potter need to be pampered like royalty every time he wasn't feeling well?

"He can, but that's what friends are for, Malfoy," she retorted primly, easily keeping up with his pace. "Considering his fiancé seems more interested in a former courtship now than in his own partner, it falls on me and Ron to - "

"What the hell is your problem, Granger?" he hissed, glaring at her as irritation and anger spiked up. Only the thought that she would retaliate nastily kept him from calling her a Mudblood. "So just because I'm engaged, I can't have lunch with a woman now? Do you realise how ridiculous you sound now?"

"Do you realise how it looks like when you share lunch with the woman you originally intended to court _in the same restaurant you took Harry to for your first date?_ " she threw back with equal vehemence, glowering heatedly at him.

It felt like all the air suddenly got punched out of his lungs. "I took him there for the first date?" he repeated incredulously, but before he could explore that particular revelation further, he suddenly became aware of a strange scent lingering in the air. "What is …" He looked around, trying to spot the source of the strange smell and halted abruptly when he saw dark grey smoke reaching out to the sky, rising up from …

Next to him Granger gasped in horror. "That's coming from your house!"

In unspoken agreement they both ran the last remaining portion of the way to the house, skidding to a stop when they saw various Aurors mingling around the place.

The first thing Draco noticed was the glaring lack of wards. No matter how hard he concentrated and sent out his magic, none of the wards responded to him. It was as if they had never been placed in the first place.

The second thing he noticed was the source of the thick, dark grey smoke. Not only were the wards gone, but the house too. There was nothing but rubble lying where the house had stood; several pillars of smoke rising from the crumbled stones.

The house had been blown up.

_And Potter had been inside when it happened._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: On a scale of one to ten, how bad is this cliffhanger? :D
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> I see you all back on the eight of September in the next chapter!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Holy shit, you guys! You've completely destroyed the record of the most reviews for one chapter in this story for the previous chapter O_O I'm completely blown away by your huge response - thank you so much!
> 
> Thanks for all the comments and the kudos! I can't believe we passed 200 kudos already :D
> 
> Warnings: *hums* Drama I suppose is the best way to describe it and some time skips
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like it :)

_Chapter 9_

What had happened here? How could the house have been blown up? He had felt how strong the wards had been - there was no way any enemy could have come close enough to bring the entire house down. Had it been one of his attackers? Had they thought he was home and decided to finish him off once and for all?

And what about Potter? Had he survived? Had he fought whoever had attacked the house?

"Harry! Where's Harry!" Granger demanded; her voice so loud and shrill, it jarred Draco out of the daze he had fallen in whilst he had been staring at the smoking ruins of the house.

A dark brown haired man with glasses looked up from his study of the right front corner of the house and approached them with a grimace, lowering his wand. "Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy. Auror Potter has been brought to Saint Mungos by one of our colleagues."

"How badly is he hurt?" she asked; tears brimming in her brown eyes as her gaze kept shifting to the ruined building. She wrung her hands together and an ugly red flush was filling her cheeks rapidly.

The Auror chanced a quick glance at Draco before he replied carefully, "I don't know exactly. He was still breathing when he left and as far as I could see he didn't appear to be bleeding too badly."

"Johnson, come here for a sec!" another Auror called out. This one was crouching near the place where the wards had been erected and he was staring at something intently.

Johnson looked at them apologetically. "I'm sorry; I need to continue the investigation. I suggest you go to Saint Mungos for more information."

Granger nodded brusquely and whirled around, snatching Draco's wrist. "We're going to the hospital," she stated, allowing no possible protest and Side-Apparated with him before he could even get his bearings.

He barely had the time to steady himself after they had Apparated in a small alley close to the hospital before Granger was marching towards the hospital; her grip on his wrist tugging him forcibly along.

"I'm not a child you can drag along," Draco said icily and snatched his hand back. _Or that ginger, blithering idiot you call your husband_ , he added mentally. He had the good sense not to say that particular comment aloud, though. He didn't fancy getting hexed.

She threw him a distracted look as if she hadn't realised she had still been holding on to him. "What? Oh sorry; I just don't want to waste any time now," she muttered and if possible, sped up even more.

Draco followed, though he didn't see the need to hurry. Potter was clearly fine; if he had been seriously hurt, those Aurors back at the remnants of the house would have been in a fit of panic, he was sure.

Potter had shown more than once that he was difficult to kill after all.

* * *

"Harry! How are you feeling? How is the baby? What happened? Are you all right?" Granger fired off the questions one after the other, rattling them off like the answers she had given during their classes at Hogwarts.

Grey eyes rolled as he entered the hospital room after her. How did she expect to get an answer if she didn't even give Potter the chance to reply?

The man in question was sitting in the hospital bed; his left hand curved around his stomach. There were several thin cuts marring his forehead and cheeks, with one long cut right beneath his jaw, as if someone had tried to take his head off. The knuckles of his hands were bruised, red and chafed, and the smell of the potions smeared across his wounds was quite penetrating. He looked quite well for someone who had been pulled out of a blown up building.

Potter offered a weak smile. "The baby's fine; the Healer just left actually. My shield took most of the damage. Aside from some cuts and bruises I'm okay."

"What happened?" Granger questioned, settling down on the bed next to Potter's legs. Draco leant against the wall next to the door, not desiring to get any closer than he needed to be.

Green eyes darted towards him before Potter sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "A family member of someone I arrested a couple of months ago decided to take revenge," he replied sourly.

Draco relaxed; so it hadn't been anyone of his attackers. Just someone with a grudge against Potter because he had put their family member in Azkaban. Then he frowned as he realised that the wards had been obliterated as well. Had one single person managed to both destroy the wards and bring down the entire house? That sounded more like an effort for at least two to three people.

"And they managed to get past the wards just like that?" he asked sceptically.

Potter shook his head and grimaced. "I think he must have had some sort of info about ours," he admitted. "That's the only explanation. The wards wouldn't have let him come close enough, but he somehow knew how to disable them."

"Is he on the run now?" Granger inquired worriedly; her hand enveloping one of Potter's.

"Nope, got him quite good," Potter answered with a grim smile. "He was worse off. He's on a different floor here with three Aurors guarding him. We'll figure out soon how he managed to bring the wards down." The grimness disappeared and a vulnerable look replaced it. "How badly damaged is the house? I didn't really get quite the look at it, because I was knocked out for a bit. I remember it took some heavy hits, though."

"Completely destroyed," Draco replied bluntly, ignoring Granger's reprimanding look. Sugar coating his answer wasn't going to change shit. The house was nothing but ruins now; there was no point in lying about that. "Don't think there's much left in it."

Potter swallowed and rubbed over his stomach. "I'm glad I've kept Garin in my office then."

 _Garin?_ Oh right, the snake Blaise had given him for his birthday. Draco barely saw the snake; most of the time the snake was in Potter's bedroom or his study and occasionally he took it with him to his office when he needed some help with wards during one of his missions.

"I'm sorry about the house, Harry," Granger murmured, squeezing her friend's hand. "I know there were quite some stuff in it that had a sentimental value."

Potter gave her a trembling smile and Draco concealed a sneer. Was he seriously going to cry just because of some lost belongings? The Potters and the Blacks - he knew his cousin Sirius had left the Black vaults to Potter - had been quite wealthy; if Potter was so ridiculously attached to his stuff, he could just buy them again.

"I put some protection charms around the most important stuff, so maybe they survived the attack," Potter said, sounding childishly hopeful.

She smiled back, nodding. "I'm sure they did. If you want, I can go back in a while and see if I can find them? The Aurors are still investigating, but afterwards I can go check."

"Thanks, 'Mione," Potter smiled and blinked rapidly; his eyes looking suspiciously bright and wet. He cleared his throat and licked his lips. "We just have to figure out where to live now until we find a new place."

"I can go back to the manor," Draco said and shrugged. "My lab is there anyway and I still have my personal wing there." He hesitated, knowing he should tell Potter he could live with him in the wing, but he wasn't looking forward to sharing his rooms at the manor as well. If he didn't, though, mother would most likely have something to say about that. She might have kept her opinion about the article to herself for some odd reason, but she wouldn't remain quiet if Draco showed up without Potter now that the house was gone.

Before he could open his mouth, though, Granger piped up, "You can stay with us as long as you need to, Harry. You know we would love to have you at our place."

"I don't know how long it'll take to find a new place and get new wards put up, Hermione," Potter sighed, looking torn. "I don't want to - "

"Harry James Potter, you're staying at our place and that's final," she stated firmly, narrowing her eyes.

Merlin, how could anyone stand someone who was this bossy? "What, the manor not good enough for you, Potter?" Draco sneered, crossing his arms. He didn't want Potter invading his space there, but it hadn't escaped his notice that Potter hadn't even suggested going with Draco. One would think he would want to be with the one he claimed to love.

A look of discomfort crossed the dark haired man's face. "It's not that, Draco. It's just that I'm not entirely comfortable staying for a long period at the manor," he explained quietly.

Draco opened his mouth to demand why not, especially considering he seemingly had no problem with having lunch with Draco's parents every week, until realisation dawned upon him and he closed his mouth again with a light grimace. Right, the _war_. Potter and his friends had been brought to the manor during the war and his dear crazy Aunt Bellatrix had had a bit too much fun with Granger. He supposed he couldn't fault Potter for not feeling comfortable at the manor; hell, even Draco still had some trouble walking past certain rooms.

"Next time - although I sincerely hope there won't be a next time - you should send us a message immediately if you're under attack, Harry," Granger scolded him. Now that she had seen with her own eyes that he would survive, she apparently thought it was time to admonish him like a child. Really, how hadn't she driven anyone mad yet? "We could have helped you!"

"I didn't exactly have the time to get my owl, 'Mione," Potter replied, sounding irritated. "Besides, I had let him out to hunt anyway, so he wasn't home when the attack happened."

"Who the hell would even send an owl to say they're under attack?" Draco remarked incredulously, shaking his head. "You can perform a Patronus; you should have sent one, you idiot."

Something dark crossed Potter's face and he clenched his jaw visibly, looking away. "I'm having trouble conjuring a Patronus lately," he said stiffly.

Before Draco could demand further explanation - why the hell would Potter have trouble conjuring a Patronus? He didn't have such trouble at Hogwarts. - the door opened, banging against the wall, and Teddy stormed into the room, jumping onto the bed before anyone could react.

"Are you okay, Uncle Harry?!" Teddy exclaimed loudly; his voice shrill with panic and worry.

Aunt Andromeda stepped into the room with an apologetic smile, closely followed by a pale Weasley. "He got worried when he couldn't get the Floo to connect, so we tried your office," she explained; her dark eyes roving sharply over Potter's body. "Ron told me what had happened and Teddy insisted on coming to see you."

"The whole department is in an uproar, mate," Weasley remarked, coming to a halt next to Granger. "Kingsley is pissed off too."

Draco barely concealed a sneer; he very much doubted the Minister would be pissed off if the Auror hadn't been Potter. Of course even the Minister himself would be worried about the Golden Boy - what else was new?

The display in the hospital room was so sickening, Draco slipped out of the room, ignoring how green eyes darted towards him. He had better things to do than remain in that room.

* * *

Mother had been understandably worried when Draco had explained why he was moving back into the manor. She and father had asked for details about the attack and Draco had given them all the information he knew - which had been rather basic of course as he wasn't involved in the investigation. Even father had looked a bit worried when Draco had said that the wards had been dispelled. They were aware of how strong the wards had been and they were probably worrying the same fate would befall the wards around Malfoy Manor.

Potter had instantly squished down their worries when he had arrived for a short visit a couple of days after the attack. The attacker had been working alone, he had reassured Draco's parents, and his anger had been entirely aimed at Potter himself, wanting to take revenge for his brother who had been put in Azkaban for a couple of years. Given the severity of the attack and the intention behind it, the attacker was looking at twenty years in Azkaban at minimum with a possibility of even more years being added to that because he had targeted Harry Potter of all people.

Even the court wasn't objective when it concerned Potter; that didn't surprise Draco in the least.

* * *

Living at the manor felt like being at home. That was no surprise of course because Draco had grown up here, but he had almost forgotten how soft and comfortable his old bed felt like; how smooth and divine the sheets felt. The large window in his room had been magically enchanted to let through the daylight gradually, allowing him time to wake up slowly. The water in the bathtub and the shower had been adjusted years ago to the perfect temperature for his skin and he revelled in it each morning.

His breakfast would be waiting for him at the small table in his room when he was finished in the bathroom and afterwards he would just have to take a few staircases and then he was in his lab where he could work on his potions in peace.

Here in the manor he was at ease; it had the luxury he had grown up with and had to go without at the house he had shared with Potter and the various spells placed on furniture and the rooms themselves made his life easier all around.

It made him question why the hell he had ever moved out of here in order to live with Potter in that house. How could he have ever given up all of this? _This_ was the place he should have been living in all along; not that poor excuse of a house that could fit ten times or even more in the manor.

Living in his personal wing also came with the benefit of not having to see Potter again or spend time with him. At the house he had been forced to share his meals with the younger man and suffer through talking with him as the other wizard tried to coax him to tell him about his day. At the house he had fallen asleep every evening with the thought that Potter was only a couple of doors removed from him; he might not have been sleeping with Draco in the same bed, but his presence had been hard to ignore. It had been like a persistent itch he couldn't scratch.

The manor, on the other hand, was blessedly Potter free. Here he didn't have to share meals with him, didn't have to talk to him and didn't have to deal with the fact that Potter's pregnancy was progressing further and further. Sure, Potter tended to drop by for a visit a few times each week - he hadn't missed the Saturday lunch so far unfortunately - but it was easier to ignore him with the excuse of orders needing to be finished or a volatile potion he couldn't leave unattended.

Even his mother had stopped insisting he talked to Potter; he didn't know the reason for that, but he wasn't going to complain about it. She did still talk to Potter about his cases, about the pregnancy and his house hunt, but at least she wasn't bothering Draco with the details and he was fine with that.

Bar Potter's occasional visit, it was remarkably easy to ignore his presence in his life and continue with his own like he had been planning all along until he had had a moment of stupidity leading to him asking out Potter.

But no matter; he was slowly reversing that stupidity.

* * *

"Is it an important letter?" Astoria inquired curiously, picking up her teacup and sipping from it delicately.

Draco looked up from the letter he had been reading and folded it, shaking his head with a smile. "No, nothing important." He turned towards the owl still waiting on the windowsill and stated, "No reply."

The owl puffed up his chest and spread out his wings in a threating manner, but Draco simply stared back unimpressed and with a sharp hoot, the owl flew away.

The letter came from Potter, asking him whether he was interested in looking at some houses with him. He most certainly had no interest at all in any houses Potter wanted to look at and he wasn't about to waste his time with the house hunt either.

It had been three weeks since the house had been blown up and Draco had become used to a life without seeing Potter that much. It was a state he liked to prolong for as long as possible.

He was taking advantage of Potter's absence to meet up with Astoria once a week just to talk and share some tea. Conversing with her just affirmed his belief that he had made a huge mistake choosing Potter in the past; he couldn't hold a candle against her brilliance and beauty. Really, he must have been out of his mind when he pursued Potter. He consoled himself with the thought that clearly his time at the Dark Wizard's place had messed with his mind.

With less than two weeks left of September, the weather had turned quite ugly already and rain was still streaming down the windows, two hours after Draco had arrived at the Greengrass Manor. It didn't look like it would stop anytime soon either.

"Have you heard about the Halloween ball?" Astoria asked, waving one of the house elves away when he wanted to pour more tea in her cup.

"The one organised by Blaise's mother? Yes, I know about that one. We received the invitation for it a couple of days ago," he replied, crossing his legs.

Mrs Zabini's balls were legendary and everyone coveted an invitation to it. It was one of the few balls worth going to and one had to be quite stupid to decline the invitation. You simply did not refuse Mrs Zabini; that was something every self-respecting witch and wizard knew.

For as long as Draco could remember he and his parents had attended her Halloween ball. When he had still been a child, it had been rather boring for him and he had spent most of his time in Blaise's room, amusing himself with the toys there. As they got older, they used the ball to drink Firewhiskey and Elven wine - drinks their parents wouldn't allow them to have while they were still underage.

Most people used the Zabini's Halloween Ball to network, create alliances and even discuss potential marriage between their families.

"You're going to attend?" She smiled coyly, knowing full well what the answer would be.

He smirked. "I would be a fool not to. Will you grace the ball with your presence?"

She giggled, hiding her mouth behind her hand as her eyes glittered brightly. "Of course; I cannot not attend the ball."

He dipped his head. "Then I shall see you there."

* * *

A knock on the door of his lab snapped him out of his concentration and he looked up, vaguely annoyed. "Yes?"

Hadn't he told his parents not to disturb him unless it was dire? He still had a large batch of Wolfsbane to finish and the bastards at the Ministry had only given him three days to complete it, demanding the batch to be sent to them on Monday. Given that it was Friday today, he didn't have that much time left and the potion wasn't exactly easy to make.

The door opened and soft footsteps descended on the steps, slowly bringing his visitor into view. He concealed a groan of annoyance when he realised it was Potter, who was hovering at the bottom of the stairs with an uncertain smile. His rounded stomach had grown even bigger since Draco had last seen him and his shirt did nothing to hide the bulge.

Draco arched an eyebrow, putting the ladle next to the bubbling cauldron for the moment. He could spare a few moments as the potion needed to rest for a bit anyway, but he hoped the other wizard would leave soon. "What do you want, Potter?"

Potter gnawed on his lower lip - such a filthy habit, it was obvious he had been raised by bloody Muggles - and said, "These past few weeks I've been thinking."

"Don't hurt yourself too much, Potter."

The dark haired man went on, ignoring the interruption, "I've realised I've made some mistakes since you woke up after the attack."

"Oh? Do go on," Draco said, crossing his arms and leaning back against the table. This should be interesting. Potter admitting he had made some mistakes? The world must be ending.

"I should have given you more time to get used to the idea of our relationship and I realised I didn't really give you that time." Potter looked embarrassed; his cheeks flushed red as he rubbed his hand over his arm. "It must have been quite strange to wake up and get to hear that you and I are in a relationship and expecting a child. Living with me in the same house must have been even weirder and you've been - remarkably good with that fact. My friends and I - we shouldn't have pushed you like that. It wasn't fair on you. I want to apologise for not really giving you the time you needed to get used to the idea of us."

Draco clapped slowly, hoping the younger wizard was intelligent enough to pick up the sarcastic undertone. "Bravo, Potter! So you are capable of admitting you made mistakes and placing yourself in another person's shoes. Good for you. Was that all?"

If possible Potter flushed even deeper and he briefly glanced away before he looked back at Draco; his green eyes clear and determined. "I was thinking that - maybe we could make a fresh start? Begin all over again?"

"A fresh start," the blond man repeated slowly, narrowing his eyes slightly. "What exactly do you mean with a fresh start?" Suspicion started gnawing at him.

Potter offered him a shy smile. "I mean we could try dating again? Go on a first date and get to know each other again? That way you can get to know me and I can get to know you just like the first time. So what do you - "

"I decline," Draco stated calmly.

It was almost comical how quickly the smile on Potter's face froze and he stared non-comprehendingly at the older man. "I'm - sorry?" he said baffled.

"I decline your offer of a date," Draco said nonchalantly. "If we start anew, then I have the right to refuse a date."

"What? What do you mean?" Potter asked perplexed.

Draco tsk'd and shook his head. "Surely you're not that stupid, Potter. I'm not interested in dating you and I'm not planning on getting into a relationship with you again."

"But - but you lo-"

"Look, don't make this anymore embarrassing than it is already for you," Draco cut him off; allowing the small amount of pity he felt for the other wizard to leak through in his voice. "I'll make it perfectly clear for you once and for all- something I should have done the moment I woke up. I am not interested in you and never will be. I cannot comprehend what my former self must have been thinking - I suspect I only pursued you in the first place because you had been there with me in that basement. It wouldn't be the first time victims formed a connection like that with their saviour." He shrugged.

"That's - that's not how it went between us! You asked me on a date at your - "

"Honestly, Potter, there is no way I would have ever been attracted to you if my mind hadn't been screwed up from the kidnapping," he continued bluntly, staring the other man down. "Have you even taken a good look at yourself? I have quite high standards and even if I was attracted to men, you and I are on two whole different playing fields. You're far from any man's wet dream, Potter - the only thing you have going for you is your fame. How fucking pathetic are you even to keep chasing after me when I made it abundantly clear many times that I'm not interested in you? The idea alone that I ever touched you is repulsive!" he spat out.

Potter stared at him, apparently too dumbstruck to react.

"The only reason why I even shared that pathetic excuse of a house with you is because everyone kept pushing me towards you! If I had had my choice from the start, I wouldn't have even left the hospital with you in the first place! I'm actually grateful for my attackers, because it's thanks to them that I woke up before I completely fucked over my life!"

"You - you don't mean that," Potter rasped; his eyes wide and desperate. "You're just - "

Draco smiled cruelly. "I know this comes as a surprise to you, Potter, but not everyone wants to do your bidding. As far as I'm concerned, we were never in a relationship, let alone engaged. I'm done with keeping the peace. I'm not interested at all and you're only making yourself look even more pathetic than you already are by trying to keep clinging to this farce of a relationship."

"The baby - "

"Ah yes, your _precious_ baby," Draco snorted, shaking his head. "Further proof that I had lost my mind. Do you really think I want to ruin my life so early with a baby? You want that child, you can keep it. Just don't expect me to take care of it, because I'm not interested. Save yourself the trouble; I'm not going to acknowledge it either," he stated coldly. "As far as I'm concerned, that child is not mine. Understood?"

Potter trembled, his eyes glittering too brightly and Draco could practically taste his magic in the air, hovering around the pregnant man.

"You're a bastard," Potter hissed; his hands clenched into fists. His face contorted into an ugly mask of tears and anger.

"No, I believe that child of yours is now a bastard," Draco couldn't resist pointing out snidely.

Several of the vials in the back shattered into thousand pieces and he jumped in surprise, whipping his wand in the air.

"Fuck you," Potter whispered; his eyes glowing eerily in the candlelight before he disappeared upstairs, slamming the door shut behind him.

Draco rolled his eyes, casting several Reparo's on the vials, restoring them to their original form. Did Potter really have to be that dramatic?

Ah well, at least he had finally got rid of him. His mother would most likely have words with him about it - not likely, there was no doubt about it actually - but that was for later.

Now he had a batch of Wolfsbane to finish.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: *smiles, waves and runs away*
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review: should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on the 22nd of September.
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: Holy crap, you guys! Words can't describe how utterly blown away I feel at the huge amount of reviews the previous chapter gathered :O 
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and the comments!
> 
> Warnings: drama I suppose
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

_Chapter 10_

When Draco emerged from his lab on Saturday afternoon, he was fully expecting Potter to be seated at the table for lunch like he had done so for every week since Draco had woken up after the attack. The man was stubborn enough; it wouldn't surprise the blond if he showed up simply to prove that Draco couldn't chase him out of his life completely.

A jolt of shock went through him when he only encountered his parents at the table, waiting for him to start the meal. He scanned the table, expecting to see it set up for four people, but there were only three plates and glasses.

"Potter not coming?" he inquired, taking his seat.

Mother raised an eyebrow. "No, he's not feeling up to it. That's not exactly a surprise given that you two broke up yesterday."

He tensed up and looked at her sharply as around them house elves started filling their plates with roasted pork and potato wedges. "He told you about that?" Not that he would really classify it as a break-up. To have a break-up one had to be together with someone else first and Draco hadn't considered them a couple since the moment he had regained consciousness in the hospital. It had been Potter's own fault that he had been naïve enough to think nothing would have changed.

"He was more forthcoming with information about it than you, yes," Mother replied dryly.

Father didn't say anything, instead focusing on his lunch.

"Understandably he didn't feel ready to join us for lunch today, so he cancelled," she continued calmly and took a sip of her water.

Draco waited silently, expecting her to start scolding him any moment now for breaking up with Potter. Today seemed a day of surprises, however, because instead of chiding him she started eating with the air she always had when she considered a subject to be closed.

"You're not going to say anything else about it?" he asked suspiciously. What exactly had Potter told her? If he told her the exact words Draco had used, she wouldn't be acting so calm now - even if all he had done was speaking the truth.

"What else is there to say about it? If you want to talk about it, I'm more than willing to listen," she remarked; her cool blue eyes regarding him sharply. "Before that, though, perhaps it's best if you eat your lunch first before it gets cold."

Draco snorted, ignoring his mother's sharpened look, and started eating. If she wasn't about to scold him, then all the better for him. That meant he wouldn't have to have an argument with her or with his father.

A small part of him, though, couldn't help but wonder what exactly Potter had said when he had explained the break-up.

* * *

When he cast a glance at the Morning Prophet on Monday morning, he was greeted with a large picture of Potter hurrying inside his office; his face turned away from the press. The screaming, bold title above the picture was more than clear about the reason why the press had a sudden interest in the hero again.

' **Boy-Who-Lived-Twice No Longer Engaged!'**

_It would not surprise us if a shock is currently going through the nation - one definitely went through our office! As you can see in the picture, Harry Potter is no longer engaged to Draco Malfoy._

_Yes, you read correctly, dear readers. Our beloved hero is no longer planning to get married. The ring he wore for months is nowhere to be seen anymore and what is even more astonishing is the fact that not only is the engagement broken off, but they no longer form a couple either. Mister Potter did not want to give us any commentary, aside from confirming that they had broken up._

_We have not managed yet to contact the Malfoy heir, but we will try our best to get to the bottom of this!_

Contacting him would be very difficult given the fact that the wards had been adjusted to never let any correspondence of the press through after an incident years ago in which a reporter had attempted to poison Lucius through ways of sending him a request for an interview.

Draco himself wasn't particularly interested in talking to the press either, so they could try as much as they wanted, but they wouldn't get even a single word out of him.

"Good luck, idiots," he snorted and after dropping the paper back on the table, he went to his lab to collect the vials of Wolfsbane and send them to the Ministry. He had managed to finish brewing the batch by working on it until late in the evening yesterday and he was quite happy to be able to send it off and collect his pay.

Right when he had placed the last vial in the wooden chest and had taken his wand to place several Protection Charms on it, heels clacking loudly on the staircase alerted him to the fact that he was having an unexpected visitor. Lowering his wand with a frown, he turned around and faced -

A furious looking Pansy.

"Pansy, what are you - "

"Of all the stupid things you have done in your life - and mind, you have displayed amazing feats of stupidity at times! - this must be the stupidest thing you've ever done!" she ranted; her dark eyes shooting fire as she marched over to him until there was barely a few feet left between them. "You broke up with Potter? How fucking - "

"I wasn't aware that once you're in a relationship, you're not allowed to leave anymore," Draco cut her off coldly; his mood plummeting fast as he realised why she was here. "Why the hell does it matter that I broke up with him? Which by the way isn't the correct term, because I never agreed to continue the relationship in the first place."

"Because you're fucking yourself over immensely!" she snapped, stabbing him with her pointy index finger in his chest. "Everybody could see how in love you were with him and the moment you have your memories back, you'll be regretting - "

"If regaining my memories means going back to that travesty of a relationship, then I'll pass on that," he sneered, crossing his arms. "I'm not interested in him, Pansy, and that's that. If he was so naïve to think everything would remain the same, that's not on me, but on him."

She glared at him, putting her hands on her hips. "And what about the baby? You're going to let your child grow up in a - "

He waved his hand, shutting her up. "I told him he can take of it," he replied disinterestedly. "I'm not planning on screwing over my life already with a baby. If he wants to ruin his life so young, that's his decision, but I'm taking my hands of it."

She stared at him; her face utterly blank. The red lipstick she had donned today stood out starkly against her pale skin. "You're disowning your own child?" she asked in a low voice; her eyes darkening visibly.

He raised an eyebrow, not impressed by the growing anger he could spot in her eyes. "Have you suddenly become deaf, my dear? I just told you that I'm not interested in it, so yes, I'm disowning it. As far as I'm concerned, I don't have a child."

Slowly she shook her head; anger replaced by astonishment as she took a few steps back. "I can't believe you. You've done some hurtful things in the past, but you've never been this heartless," she murmured, sounding more bemused than shocked.

He rolled his eyes, becoming bored with the conversation. "Now you're exaggerating," he scoffed. "On whose side are you actually? You're supposed to be my friend."

Her face hardened and something in her eyes shuttered close. "There are no sides in this, Draco. There haven't been any sides since the war."

"You're spending too much time with Gryffindors, Pansy. You're already picking up their mellifluent bullshit," he snorted, leaning back against the table.

"And you've become a heartless arsehole, Draco," she said flatly. "I don't even recognise you anymore."

"Oh stop being so melodramatic," he retorted irritated. "I'm still the same person."

"No, you're not, because the man I knew would never disown his own child," she said coldly and turned around, walking back to the staircase. "Get back to me when you manage to pull your head out of your arse." The loud 'BANG' as she slammed the door behind her shut reverberated through the lab, causing the vials to dangerously tremble.

Frustration exploded in him and he whipped his wand to the right, aiming at the wall furthest away from him. A bright yellow beam erupted from the tip of his wand and slammed right into the middle of the wall, shattering some of the stones.

Merlin, but sometimes Pansy could be such an utter _bitch_. Rolling his shoulders, he turned his attention back to the Wolfsbane, determined to immerse himself in his work again.

* * *

It became clear a couple of days later that Pansy wasn't joking around this time. When Draco attempted to Floo call her to ask her something regarding Mrs Zabini's Halloween ball, the connection refused to establish and he stared in disbelief at the sputtering, green flames which slowly turned gold and red again.

Then he rolled his eyes and stood up, brushing the miniscule dust particles off his knees. Fine, if she wanted to behave like a toddler, then she could. No skin off his nose. For a moment he contemplated calling Blaise, but then remembered that the man was out of the country for at least three weeks for his job and he let out a small sigh, a tad annoyed. Perhaps it was time that he expanded his friend circle somewhat.

Thoughtfully he tapped his fingers against his hip and stared out of the window; sheets of rain were steadily darkening the ground outside. He wasn't restricted to Pansy and Blaise alone; he had at least one other person he could talk to and with Potter gone now, there was absolutely nothing to hold him back from pursuing that particular relationship.

Nodding to himself, he went upstairs to his wing to compose his letter.

* * *

The beginning of October saw him and Astoria exchanging letters frequently and by the end of the first week he was visiting her manor once more. Initially she had been rather standoffish, stating that it had never been her intention to come between him and Potter and he had hurried to set her straight about that. His interactions with her had nothing to do with what had happened between him and Potter, he had made her clear and that seemed to have reassured her.

Now that he no longer had to put up with Potter and their supposed relationship, he felt free to start what he should have finished a couple of years ago: courting Astoria.

Father raised an eyebrow. "You want to court Miss Greengrass?" he repeated slowly, placing his glass of Firewhiskey back on the table.

It was Thursday evening, almost three weeks after he had ended the supposed relationship with Potter. Draco had visited Astoria this afternoon to formally ask her whether she would accept his courtship. Her glittering eyes and deep blush had already been a good enough answer, but it had still felt incredible to hear her verbal acceptance as well.

"Yes," he replied patiently, leaning back comfortably in the armchair. They were seated in the living room and his parents had been reading before he had interrupted them with his announcement. "I had started the courtship years ago before I - became a couple with Potter," he forced the last words out of his mouth with a grimace. "I intend to finish what I originally started."

"Don't you think it's still a bit too soon to consider a new courtship, Draco?" Mother questioned, frowning slightly. She closed her book and rested her hands on the hard cover. "It has not even been a month since you and Harry broke up."

He waved her concern away, barely able to contain an amused chuckle. "The break-up was a long time coming, mother," he assured her and she pursed her lips. "I'm not affected by it, I promise you."

"What about the child?" Father inquired, picking up his glass again to take a sip. "Does Miss Greengrass feel up to the challenge of sharing the care of your child whenever he's in your custody?"

Right, he hadn't yet told them about his decision concerning the baby and evidently Potter hadn't said anything about it either. _That pathetic coward_ , he sneered inwardly. He steeled himself, knowing that this wouldn't be an easy conversation to have and wishing they would have asked him about this after they had given him their consent.

"The child won't raise any issue, because ... I'm planning on leaving full custody to Potter," he admitted carefully, knowing there was no other way to break the news, but still cursing Potter for leaving him in this position.

It was almost eerie how both his parents stilled at exactly the same moment. Mother's voice was cool when she said, "My apologies, Draco, but did I just hear you state that you're handing over full custody to Harry?"

"Yes, I'm giving him full custody over it," he confirmed and against his will, his palms started to become sweaty and he placed them on his thighs.

"We're talking about _your_ son here, Draco," Father stated calmly, but his eyes were narrowed. " _Our_ grandson. How is he supposed to learn the teachings of our family if you're handing over his custody to Potter?"

Here it would come. "He won't need to learn the teachings, because he won't bear the Malfoy name," he replied flatly.

The temperature in the room plummeted drastically and he resisted the urge to shiver and rub his arms. It wasn't really that cold, not with the fire crackling merrily in the fireplace, but his parents' anger was palpable.

"You disowned your own son?" Mother murmured incredulously; her eyes darkening and sharpening.

Annoyance flared up at the disbelief in her voice and face. "It's not like he would be a Pureblood anyway," he retorted irritated. "Whatever stupidity my former self was thinking, I'm not interested in becoming a parent already. So yes, I'm not planning on acknowledging the child when it's born. The children Astoria and I will have in the future will be raised according to our values and - " he cut himself off when mother stood up abruptly.

"I did not raise you to ignore your own blood," she stated coldly. "If you want to proceed with the courtship, go ahead. Just don't expect my full acceptance. I hope for your sake, you will not come to regret the decisions you are making now." She swept out of the room before he could even think of a retort.

Father rose up as well, throwing him an indiscernible look. "Perhaps it is best that you will not be teaching the child our lessons. Clearly some of the ones I taught you, you failed to comprehend," he murmured silkily.

"I thought you didn't like Potter either?" Draco snapped angrily, balling his hands into fists.

"I'm not fond of him, no, but disowning the child already sounds a bit too hasty in my opinion. At the very least I would have waited until he was older and base my decision on how he performed in his lessons," the older man replied calmly before following his wife out of the room.

Draco was left on the armchair, feeling smaller than he had in years and inexplicably cold all over. It was a feeling he had hoped to never experience again. Leave it to Potter to be the one to indirectly cause it.

* * *

Things between him and his parents ... After that conversation, neither of them mentioned Potter's child again and even though they hadn't thrown him out or treated him differently, there was still that undercurrent of disapproval lingering in their eyes. It only made him even more determined to proceed with the courtship. Once he had courted Astoria completely and she and his parents had had the time to talk and get to know each other, he was certain they would come to appreciate that Astoria would make a much better spouse than Potter ever would have done.

Potter simply didn't fit into their world and that would become clear once the relationship between him and Astoria would further unfold.

It was mostly his mother being difficult; father had a rather blasé attitude when it concerned Potter and the child, but mother was obviously vexed by Draco's decision to have nothing to do with the baby. She didn't show it with obvious gestures, but it was in the way she looked at times and the manner in which she pulled her mouth when he discussed his courting. He was aware that she was not happy about this, but she would change her mind eventually.

Even she would have to realise that Potter stuck out like a sore thumb in their circles, while Astoria fitted in perfectly. Perhaps things might have been different if Potter had been raised by his parents, but all his potential had been destroyed after spending years with his Muggle family. That wasn't Draco's fault and it was hardly fair of his mother to hold it against him that he preferred a spouse who knew their way around in their social circles.

 _She'll change her mind_ , he reassured himself as he allowed the seamstress - a dark brown haired woman whose name he couldn't bother to remember - to take his measurements. The Halloween ball of Mrs Zabini was coming up soon and he needed something suitable to wear.

_I just need to give her some time to get used to it._

* * *

"I was thinking we could share lunch tomorrow and discuss some of our research," Draco suggested, plucking two glasses of champagne off the silver tray a house elf was carrying around. He handed one over to Astoria who smiled and accepted it, brushing her free hand over her midnight blue robes.

The robes were trimmed with silver roses around the edges of her sleeves and the material sparkled faintly like stars in the midnight sky whenever she moved around. The clothes showed off her curves beautifully without coming across as vulgar; her hair had been turned into loose curls, which fell across her back and shoulders like water.

"At a restaurant?" she inquired; her deep pink lips still curled up into a soft smile.

"Hm, a restaurant with French cuisine has recently opened in Dawning Alley," he replied, carefully sipping from the bubbly drink. His throat tingled slightly when he swallowed. "High end; it is supposed to be very good."

She inclined her head. "Then let's try that one out."

The doors to the ballroom opened and out of habit Draco craned his neck slightly to see who whether it was a new guest joining Mrs Zabini's Halloween ball. He stilled when he spotted familiar, messy, dark hair and watched how Potter slipped into the room, dressed in such deep green robes they almost appeared to be black. The deep colour did nothing to hide his bulging stomach and Potter kept one of his hands resting on his belly as he made his way towards ...

Blaise of all people.

It was already surprising to see Potter at this ball - Mrs Zabini was quite selective with her invitations - but to see him with Blaise of all people? He hid a snort; well, he supposed it would be difficult for Potter to find a real partner, heavily pregnant as he was now. Any sane man would decline escorting him to a ball, but Draco reminded himself that clearly over the years Blaise and Potter had become closer and so it made sense somewhat for his friend to escort Potter.

Seeing Potter in the ballroom made him remember that he had never really figured out what the dark haired wizard had told his mother exactly and he pursed his lips, hesitating for a moment before he made his decision.

"Astoria, you'll have to excuse me for a moment, but I have seen someone I need to talk to," he said apologetically, extracting himself from the slender arm which had been linked with his own.

She blinked surprised, but nodded. "All right, I still need to talk to Allison anyway."

He offered a distracted hum in acknowledgement and was already making his way towards the git before she could say anything more.

Blaise spotted him first and quirked a dark eyebrow. The other wizard had returned from his trip a couple of days ago and while he hadn't snapped at Draco like Pansy had done, he hadn't been particularly happy with him either. He hadn't decided to stop talking to Draco, however, so that still made him better than Pansy.

Green eyes turned towards him and widened when they recognised him.

"Potter, can I have a word with you?" Draco asked curtly, coming to a halt a few feet away from him.

Blaise clucked his tongue. "I'll be with my mother then," he said and walked away.

"What do you want?" Potter asked warily, crossing his arms on top of his stomach. The dark bags underneath his eyes didn't particularly help his appearance; did that idiot still not realise that he could use some Glamours to at least look somewhat presentable? This wasn't a party organised by the Weasleys, but a highly anticipated ball of a respected Pureblood witch.

"Not a friendly tone you have there," Draco pointed out.

Green eyes rolled. "I'm not in the mood for bullshit. What do you want?" Potter repeated impatiently; his eyes guarded and dark.

Draco sniffed, feeling a tad offended, but decided not to beat around the bush any longer. "What did you tell my mother about our last conversation?" he asked bluntly and the other man looked taken aback. "She was rather ... calm about it when she talked to me the day after that."

The younger wizard sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "I just told her that we had decided to call it quits and that we didn't think we fitted together anymore," he answered stiffly.

"'We'?" Draco repeated and snorted. "You didn't look that eager to call it quits back then," he sneered.

"If you want, I can go tell your mum the truth, even show her the memory," Potter riposted blankly and Draco stiffened. "I'm sure she'll be interested."

"Why did you lie then?" the blond man asked tersely.

"Because this whole thing between us," Potter waved his hand back and forth between them, "shouldn't affect your relationship with your mum. There's no point in her being angry at you for something that's between us."

"Aw, you're such a good martyr," Draco taunted with a smirk. Leave it to Potter to act like the break-up had been his idea as well just because he believed it would taint Draco's relationship with his mother.

 _It did affect your relationship with her_ , a voice in the back of his mind reminded him finely. _But only because you couldn't keep your mouth shut_. He firmly ignored that voice.

"No, I just saw no point in letting your mum know what an utter and complete dick you can be," Potter stated bluntly and turned around. "If that's all."

Anger burnt bright all of a sudden and before he could stop himself and think twice, he spat out, "I'm courting Astoria Greengrass now."

Potter stilled, but didn't turn around to look at him. "Good for you. Congratulations," he said tonelessly and walked away.

"Everything all right?" Astoria regarded him curiously when he came to stand next to her again.

"Sure, especially now that I see you again," he replied easily and if his smile was stiffer than usually, it was nobody's business but his own.

* * *

When he stepped into the Greengrass' foyer the following day, right on time to take Astoria out for lunch, he instead came face to face with Daphne, Astoria's older sister.

"Is Astoria not ready yet?" Draco asked curiously, checking his watch quickly. Before they had parted yesterday they had agreed to meet up at the Greengrass Manor at eleven thirty so they could be on time for their reservation at twelve. Normally the wait for a table at the new French restaurant was at least two weeks, but money opened quite a few doors.

When he studied Daphne better, he took note of how pale she looked. "Are you okay?"

"Astoria isn't here," Daphne said, ignoring his second question. She pursed her lips and continued, "The Aurors have taken her to the Ministry."

"For what reason?" he asked perplexed.

"They suspect her of being involved with the people who attacked you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: We're slowly nearing the end of the story. Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on the sixth of October. I see you all in the next chapter!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: So I know I said I would update this story again on the sixth, but I discovered a week ago that my internet will be down for a while then, so I figured I would just update this story one day earlier. I hope you don't mind that :P
> 
> Also thank you so much for the reviews! I seriously didn't expect that many again, but I'm not complaining!
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and the comments!
> 
> Warnings: Some timeskips; bit of drama; an author who sucks at writing action scenes
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

_Chapter 11_

"Level Two, Department of Magical Law Enforcement," the feminine voice announced coolly as the doors of the lift opened, releasing several flying memos and a couple of wizards and witches - some of who looked rather pale.

Brusquely Draco marched past a wizard clad in dark purple robes, ignoring his disgruntled shout. He passed the corner, paying no attention to the curious gazes following him, and was greeted by the set of heavy oak doors, which hid the Auror Headquarters from the rest of the Ministry.

They also hid the one person he was searching for - the one person who had his blood boiling so hard it surprised him his wand hadn't started shooting off sparks yet.

_How fucking dared he?_

How fucking pathetic and petty was he to arrest Astoria on those inane charges? That it was an act of pettiness was clear to Draco. There was no way Astoria getting interrogated the day after Draco had admitted to courting her was just a coincidence. He didn't hear anything about the case for weeks and now suddenly they would have a suspect?

A suspect who turned out to be the woman Draco was courting at the moment? And they came up with this right after Draco admitted to Potter that he was courting her? As if that was just a coincidence.

Was this Potter's revenge for cutting him and that child out of his life? _Fuck him_. If he wanted to take revenge, fine, but how dared he drag Astoria into this?

"Where the hell is Potter?" he snapped at the caramel brown haired woman whose cubicle was closest to the entrance.

She blinked owlishly at him through her too large glasses, tapping the tip of her quill on her blank sheet of parchment. "His office is ten doors down, but you'll have to ..." Whatever she wanted to say next died on her lips as Draco stormed off, honing in on the specific door like a predator tracking its prey.

The door of the office stood ajar, allowing the sound of a quill scratching on paper to be filtered through in the hallway. The hinges of the door creaked softly when Draco pushed against it and the door swung open. Weasley was nowhere in sight, but Potter was scribbling away behind his desk; his stomach so swollen he was sitting sideways and Draco's lip curled up in a sneer.

Without glancing up, Potter muttered, "Ron? Did you find that file?"

"Guess again," Draco said coldly, stepping inside and closing the door behind him.

The dark haired wizard stilled, his quill pausing right above the parchment, before he sighed wearily and put the quill down. He leant back in his chair and looked up at the blond man. "What do you want?" he asked flatly. If possible the dark circles underneath his eyes looked even more pronounced; did that git never put any care in his appearance?

"I want to know when you've become so petty," Draco sneered, halting in front of the desk. There was one chair available in front of the desk, but like hell was he going to sit down.

"What the hell are you talking about now?" Potter demanded, pinching the bridge of his nose as if merely talking to Draco was already exhausting.

"Don't start acting coy now, Potter," Draco hissed; his fingers digging into the cushioned back of the chair. "I told you yesterday I'm courting Astoria and today I find out that she's been taken to the Ministry because of her supposed involvement in the attack on me. You really expect me to believe that's just a coincidence?"

"Believe it or not, but the world doesn't revolve around you," Potter snapped back; his eyes flaring up in anger. "She was brought here for questioning, yes, because they've discovered that she has links with all the victims. I wasn't the one who brought her in, though. You'll have to complain to Caley about that," he added with a sharp smile.

"You seriously expect me to believe this tripe? Maybe you weren't the one bringing her in, but you told Caley about - "

"Unlike some people, I don't waste my time with taking petty revenge," Potter cut him off coldly and his face hardened, his eyes shuttering close. "You've made it quite clear where we stand - I have better things to do than questioning Greengrass merely because of your courtship. There's strong evidence linking her to all of the victims and my colleagues decided it was time to bring her in. End of story."

"What kind of evidence are you even talking about?" Draco bit out, refusing to give up. His body was positively thrumming with the promise of a fight and he wasn't about to go easy on the younger man.

"Talk to Caley about it; he's the one who figured out the link," Potter replied indifferently and picked up his quill again, clearly dismissing Draco as he bent down over the parchment as much as he could with his large stomach.

Draco had never been good at accepting that he was being ignored, though. He slammed his hand down on the parchment Potter had been writing on and met his glare with his own freezing one.

"How about _you_ tell me for which kind of bullshit reasons you're interrogating her?" he said in a low, dangerous voice. He refused to budge when Potter fruitlessly tugged at the parchment underneath his hand and the green eyed man sank back down in his chair with an annoyed cluck of his tongue; his scowl deepening.

"Fine, if that gets you out of my office, I'll tell you," Potter said irritated. "We went back to all of the victims - or well the family of the one who was killed - and asked with whom they had some kind of argument within the last two years." As he was talking, he pulled out a file from one of the drawers and dropped it on the desk.

"Didn't you already ask them before with whom they had issues?" Draco questioned, frowning and quickly snatching his hand back in case the younger man thought it would make a good target to land the thick file on.

"We did, yes, but we decided to dig deeper and ask them about any arguments or fights they have had in the last two to three years," Potter replied, patting the closed file. "Greengrass' name popped up every single time."

"In what kind of context?" Draco narrowed his eyes, crossing his arms. He had trouble believing that Astoria had had fights with every single one of the victims. He was aware that she wasn't perfect - albeit still a better match for him than Potter had ever been - but he couldn't imagine her quarrelling with several families either.

Feuds weren't unheard of in their particular circle - some even went back several centuries with the instigators long dead and gone, leaving merely dust behind, but their descendants kept the feud alive because some things just weren't easy to forgive. The Malfoys and the Weasleys had been at odds with each other for a long time now and Draco couldn't imagine that situation ever changing.

So no, fights between families weren't unheard of - but it would be social suicide to quarrel with several families at once like the Aurors were accusing Astoria of now. If you had fights with too many families at once, people would start questioning whether _you_ weren't simply the problem and would avoid pledging any alliances with you. Nobody in their right mind would think it was wise to tie oneself to someone who was despised by several families at the same time. That person would only drag them down with them, so they weren't worth the risk.

"A context you should be familiar with," Potter answered clipped. "She met most of them to either sell or purchase potion ingredients, but those meetings often seemed to end in an argument about the price or the amount of ingredients which needed to be sold or bought."

"I didn't have an argument with her about potions ingredients," Draco pointed out triumphantly; finding a sense of satisfaction in proving the Aurors had been wrong after all.

A dark eyebrow rose up. "That's why I said 'most of them'," Potter retorted flatly. "Obviously she didn't have discussions about potions ingredients every single time. In your case, for example, I imagine it had something to do with you breaking off the courtship."

"That was three years ago," Draco scoffed, shaking his head. "I very much doubt that she waited three years to attack me and take some memories away."

"We still don't know how they targeted the memories without using Legilimency," Potter said quietly; his face unnervingly blank. "It's possible that it took nearly three years to come up with that spell or curse or whatever it was that took away the memories."

"It's also possible she doesn't have anything to do with this," the blond wizard sneered.

The younger man shrugged. "If she doesn't, that will become clear during the questioning then." He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face, dislodging his glasses for a moment. He straightened them out with a grumble, fumbling with them for a few seconds.

Grey eyes rolled; one would think the idiot had never worn glasses before with the way he was handling them now.

Potter must have caught him rolling his eyes and figured the action had something to do with his comment because he continued sharply, "We have to follow every possible lead, no matter how small it is or who the possible suspect is."

"Well, in that case I certainly hope you interrogated the Weasleys," Draco smiled thinly; his hands clenching into hidden fists. "You know, considering the feud between our families gives them more reason to attack me than Astoria."

"They don't need to be interrogated," Potter said lowly, his eyes darkening as he wrapped one arm around his stomach.

"Holding a hand above their heads, Potter? Isn't that called obstruction of justice?" Draco mocked him, but anger was simmering in the pit of his stomach. So that was how things were handled, huh? Typical; he really shouldn't have expected anything else from Potter. He might pretend to be fighting for justice and equality for everyone, but when it came down to it, he would choose his friends over anything and everyone else. Those fucking traitors could probably get away with murder simply because Potter was on their side.

_Fucking disgusting._

"They might not like you, but they love me," Potter stated; his voice even and neutral while his eyes remained disturbingly blank. It was like watching in a mirror without seeing anything reflect back. "And they would never do anything to hurt me, because they know it wouldn't be worth losing me over any sort of revenge they would want to take. Not even George would go that far."

"Aw, how sweet," Draco sneered but before he could add anything else, the door suddenly swung open, revealing the Weasel.

When you speak of the devil ...

"Malfoy, what are you doing here?" Blue eyes stared at him distrustfully before they quickly flickered towards Potter, as if the ginger haired man wanted to check whether Draco had hurt his precious friend.

His sneer deepened and he took a step closer to the other wizard. "I am - "

"Just about to leave," Potter cut him off, throwing him an indiscernible look before his green eyes landed back on his partner. "He just needed to ask some questions about Greengrass."

Weasley snorted and walked to his own desk after throwing the blond man a foul look. "She's still being questioned. Might take a few days before she's back home," he muttered, sounding indifferent as he plopped down in his chair.

Draco gritted his teeth together before he addressed Potter, "You're focusing on the wrong person."

"Well, we'll soon find out whether that's true, won't we?" Potter retorted, ever the stubborn git, before he placed the file back into the drawer and closed it. "Now, if you'll excuse us, we have work to do."

Draco couldn't contain a derisive snort when he looked at the way Potter had to work around his large stomach, but left before Weasley could start throwing hexes - judging by the ugly shade of red steadily colouring his face, that wouldn't be too long anymore.

He shouldn't have come here; this visit had only made him more frustrated and coated his tongue with a bitter taste as he marched back to the lift, ignoring the curious and wary gazes aimed at his back.

_What a complete waste of his time._

* * *

The Aurors released Astoria on Monday, having decided that the evidence was not sufficient enough to pin the attacks on her and keep her detained. Draco would have felt smug about that - he knew she couldn't have had anything to do with the attacks - but he was mostly angry and insulted on her behalf that it had taken the Aurors nearly a week to decide she couldn't be tied to the attackers.

"It wasn't pleasant, but I can understand why they did it," Astoria murmured, sipping slowly from her cup of tea.

"How can you even defend them?" Draco asked incredulously; his hand tightening around his own cup of tea.

She smiled ruefully and shrugged. "They didn't mistreat me," she replied calmly. "They were actually quite decent. I understand they have to examine each clue, no matter how small. I'm not happy I was being interrogated for this matter, no, but at least they took me of their suspect list."

He pressed his lips together, remaining silent, though he disagreed with her. From what she had told him he concluded that they hadn't actually taken her off the suspect list, but they simply didn't have a strong enough case against her to keep her there. The Aurors would most likely keep considering her a suspect until they caught the assailants. Judging by their progress - or more accurately the lack thereof - the case would remain open for still quite some time.

Baby blue painted nails tapped on the oak table and Astoria leant forwards a bit; her hair cascading down her breasts like a waterfall. She smiled, her lips curling up slowly, and asked lightly, "Does that lunch invitation still stand?"

Mentally shaking his head to get rid of any thoughts about the Aurors - at least for now - he smirked, "Of course, my lady."

She giggled softly, allowing him to take her hand in his as they approached the foyer to use the Floo network there.

Sharing lunch with Astoria was just what he needed to start the week in a good way; at the very least it would serve as a good distraction from having had to talk to Potter twice last week.

* * *

Draco usually only briefly glanced through the newspaper, stopping once in a while to read an article more in depth when it snagged his attention. That being the case he only realised just how much attention the press had started giving him after dumping Potter when he was accosted by one in the middle of November. He had just come out of one of the Apothecaries in Diagon Alley when a reporter suddenly appeared in front of him, cutting off his path.

"Mister Malfoy, do you have anything to say about your new relationship with Miss Greengrass?" The man - a pudgy looking bloke with thin, mouse brown hair - looked at him expectantly; his quill hovering above his notes in anticipation.

"How about mind your own business?" Draco suggested annoyed, stepping past the other wizard. He was on a tight schedule today and didn't have the time to waste it on some reporter.

"But, Mister Malfoy, the readers from the Daily Prophet want to know - " The man's protest ended in a loud, startled squawk when he tripped over his sudden untied shoelaces and Draco made use of his temporary distraction by slipping into the nearest side alley.

What did he care what the readers of the Prophet wanted to know? Shouldn't they be focusing on Potter like they always did? He shook his head with a snort and Apparated away before the reporter could accost him again.

He had thought that was it; it wasn't as if the newspaper had paid much attention to him before, after all. Even when he had been together with Potter, the press had tended to focus more on the git than on him, except for the rare instances when they had had the chance to drag his name through the mud.

Now however, they seemed to have switched their attention from Potter to him and he couldn't say he liked being cast in the spotlight like that. Whenever he was out in public with Astoria - be it to have a meal at a restaurant, to accompany her with shopping or simply walk around together - there seemed to be at least one or two, sometimes even three, reporters hell bent on taking their picture and begging Draco to give them an interview. He refused to give them that - he very much doubted they had his best intentions at heart, especially not after that one article in which he had been painted as a heartless arsehole who has ruthlessly dumped his poor pregnant fiancé.

The house elves had cleaned up soot from exploded Howlers for days after the paper had printed that particular article.

"Is there no way to get them to leave me alone?" Draco glared at the reporter in the distance who ducked behind a tree near the gates - as if the wards wouldn't have alerted them all to his presence, the moron.

It was the end of November and even the howling, ice cold wind and streaming rain did nothing to deter the pests from trying to snap his picture and demand an interview. It was becoming beyond aggravating and he was _this close_ to hexing them all.

"The only one having the power to put the press on a leash is the Ministry," Father answered idly, turning the page of an old book he had been engrossed in for two days now.

"And I doubt the Ministry will be forthcoming with help in this matter," Mother added calmly, accepting her cup of tea from one of the house elves.

Draco pivoted on his heels to look at her and narrowed his eyes. She was unfortunately correct; the Ministry was one of his biggest clients, but there was no way they would help him get rid of the reporters. They paid him for his potions and that was sufficient in their eyes. Perhaps he should already be glad that they paid him what they owned him and didn't try to stiff him, but he had a difficult time feeling grateful at this moment with the press lurking outside, reading to jump on him the moment he set foot outside the wards.

There was, however, one person in the Ministry who might be willing to listen to his plight - he after all knew all too well how it was to be hounded by the press. He honestly didn't want to contact him; their last interactions had been more than enough for him, but he was Draco's only chance to get the press to back off.

Now to get him to agree to help Draco out ... Clenching his jaw, he went to his own wing to write the letter.

* * *

Potter's reply was quick and to the point.

' _My hands are tied, like I've said before. There's nothing I can do unless they actually harm you.'_

"You can't or you don't want to?" Draco muttered darkly before crumpling up the letter - more like a note, really - and setting it on fire.

He really shouldn't have expected anything else.

* * *

December had rolled into the country two weeks ago when Draco woke up to a letter from Potter. He studied the letter warily, wondering what the man could possibly want from him after refusing to help him out with the press. The reporters weren't as present as before as he and Astoria hadn't gone out in public much lately, but he still occasionally caught a glimpse of a stubborn reporter lurking around the property.

Had Potter reconsidered his initial reply? Only one way to find out, he supposed with a grimace and opened the letter.

' _We need to talk about your case. It's rather urgent. Please meet me at Belle's at ten a.m._

_Harry'_

"The case, huh?" Draco murmured, narrowing his eyes as he lowered the letter on his desk. The clock showed eight thirty.

He turned around and went into the bathroom to take a shower.

* * *

"You're still working when you're this far along?" Draco questioned incredulously as he sat down across from Potter. The restaurant was nearly empty at this early hour; there was a couple near the back, too engrossed in their conversation to take note of the two men, and an elderly wizard reading the newspaper while sipping from his coffee a couple of tables down.

Potter looked ready to pop any minute now; his stomach had grown significantly larger since the last time Draco had spoken to him. Wasn't he nine months pregnant now?

"I'm on leave until February," Potter replied calmly; his left hand cupping his stomach. In front of him on the small, round table was a cup of tea, steaming gently. "I ordered some tea for you too."

"If you're on leave, then why are you the one meeting me for my case?" Draco frowned, only acknowledging the cheerfully smiling waitress with a faint nod when she placed his own cup of tea down on the table. He sneered, "What? Did you miss me?"

His jab didn't seem to deter the dark haired man at all. Instead of reacting to it, he answered flatly, "Because the others refuse to talk to you. Kingsley decided it would be more prudent if I was the one talking to you about your case."

_Because the others are more likely to hex you_ , was the unspoken thought hanging between them and Draco's sneer deepened.

"Not very noble of them," he murmured, wrapping his hand around his cup but drinking of it.

The younger wizard shrugged; the grey daylight outside catching his glasses, concealing his eyes for a moment before he leant forwards slightly. "I'm not here to fight with you," he said calmly, but there was a terse undertone in his voice.

The blond man waved his hand dismissively. "Say what you want to say and then we can leave."

A muscle ticked in his jaw and Potter sat back abruptly, pursing his lips. "The Ministry is assigning two Aurors to you to be your bodyguards."

"Why the hell do I need two bodyguards?" Draco asked perplexed, caught off guard by the announcement. He had entered the restaurant with the expectation to hear that his attackers had finally been caught - not to hear that he apparently would have two Aurors tailing him wherever he went.

"Four victims have been discovered dead so far," Potter explained and both his face and voice were disturbingly blank. "We suspect that your attackers are going around, killing off their victims one by one."

"Who said they were murdered by those three men?" Draco asked sharply, narrowing his eyes. "Could be just a coincidence."

"All four victims disappeared for three days; during this time they were murdered and their bodies were dumped in front of the homes of their previous partners," Potter answered, looking as immobile as a statue. "They each carried a note, stating that justice had fully been served. One victim is an incident, two are a coincidence you could still say. Three, however, constitutes a pattern for sure. Want to know what they call four?"

Ignoring Potter's question, his mind grasped at a small detail and he blurted out before he could stop himself, "What do you mean, 'the homes of their previous partners'?"

Potter bit down on his lower lip and glanced away for a few second, before he sighed and faced Draco again. "While some of them have started rebuilding their relationship with the partner they forgot, there are several of them who decided they were fine with how things were and left their partner. Now four of them are dead and were found by their ex-partners."

The ones who left their partner were dead now ... How coincidental.

Grey eyes narrowed. "Is this some kind of ploy to convince me to come back - "

"For fuck's sake, Draco!" Potter snarled, slamming his hand on the table and Draco jumped. The three other patrons stared at him in shock, but he ignored them as he continued hissing, "Would you pull your head out of your arse for once?! You've got a target painted on your back! That's a bloody fact! This group is going around, killing off their victims one by one and you think this is something I - "

Draco felt the building shake before he heard the explosion. Before he realised what was happening, he was roughly pushed down onto the ground and the table was flipped onto its side, creating a temporary hiding place. Glass was shattering all around them, showering the floor and their bodies with its glinting shards, and there was ringing in Draco's ears, blocking out all other sounds. He rolled onto his left side and grasped his wand, looking around the table cautiously. Behind him people were screaming and running around.

"Everybody, get down and hide! Cast the strongest protection shield you know!" Potter barked out, taking control of the situation immediately. He was sitting next to Draco behind the table; his fingers clasped around his wand. A thin line of red welled up on his left cheek, where he had been cut by the glass. "You okay?" he murmured grimly, casting a quick glance at the blond man next to him.

"Don't think I'm hurt," Draco answered clipped, but his heart was beating like mad in his chest and his palms started to sweat. Who was attacking them?

Potter peered around the table for a moment, but had to hastily pull back when a streak of mustard yellow light sped past him and turned one of the chairs into dust. "Damn it, I nearly - " he cut himself off and fired off a spell Draco had never heard of before, but which made something black and midnight purple shoot out of his wand.

Amidst the noise of stone crumbling and people yelling, there was a furious scream erupting outside, piercing through all the other noises and for a few seconds, there was a black glow dimming the restaurant.

"What kind of spell was that?" Draco demanded in a furious whisper, but Potter shook his head.

"Not now. I'm trying to locate that bastard," he hissed back and the next moment was nothing but a flurry of hexes and curses being exchanged between the dark haired man and the unknown assailant.

A myriad of colours lit up the room as the spells and curses crashed into each other. Some of them bounced off, hit tables and chairs and portraits, turning them into dust, setting them on fire or exploding them.

Suddenly Draco was pulled down until he was mostly lying on the ground - not a second too early as the top part of the table was blasted apart. He swallowed and stared wide eyed at the shards of brown wood lying between their legs; that could have been his _head_.

Potter's hand rested on his shoulder for a few seconds longer before he pulled it back and fired off another curse.

"Thanks," Draco croaked out; his hand tightening around his wand.

There was no reply, but the silver gleam of a strong Protection shield enveloped them a few seconds later. On an impulse, Draco peeked around the table, trying to catch a glimpse of their attacker. Dust hung heavily in the air, obstructing his view, but then he saw someone moving to the left and he murmured a spell to enhance his vision temporarily, fixating his eyes on the mysterious assailant.

One of Potter's spells - several fire red balls - zoomed in on their enemy and the person - a short man, though his face remained hidden in his cloak - took several hasty steps to the side to avoid them.

_The shorter one of the three limped towards him, holding out his wand ..._

Draco froze, all the air in his lungs leaving him at once and his throat tightened up; the memory making him feel like ice was replacing the blood in his veins.

"Potter," he rasped; his voice barely louder than a whisper.

"What?" The other man was looking away from him, firing curse after curse as sweat dripped down his face; his free arm clenching around his belly. Green eyes turned to him impatiently when he tugged insistently on his arm. "What? I'm kind of in the middle of something here!"

"I know him - the one who's attacking us."

"What? How do you - "

"He's one of the three who stole my memories."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: Not that many chapters left, guys. I'm estimating around three more, perhaps a fourth one, and then this story is finished. So prepare for quite some angst in the upcoming last chapters ;)
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on the 20th of October. 
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: For some reason this chapter was difficult to write *frowns* I knew what I wanted to write, but actually putting the words on paper was a whole other matter. As a matter of fact I actually only just finished it today *grimaces* Guess the sleep deprivation hit me a bit harder than expected ...
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and the comments! We've already passed 300 kudos :D
> 
> Warnings: hm, drama I guess
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

_Chapter 12_

"Aside from some cuts, you appear to be completely fine, but just to be certain, we'd like to keep you here for a couple more hours," the Healer informed him, scribbling something down on the parchment. His half-moon glasses continually slipped down and he kept pushing them back up, smearing ink across his nose in the process.

Draco nodded, barely restraining the urge to sneer at how the Healer was desperately avoiding his eyes. One would think _he_ had been the one to blow up a restaurant instead of being one of the victims.

"I'll give you some time to rest," the Healer - Draco hadn't bothered to learn his name - muttered and hurried out of the room, leaving the door ajar.

Grey eyes rolled in exasperation, but he reclined against the poor excuse of a pillow, deciding there was no harm in staying here for a couple of hours. Staring down at his hands, which were covered with paste to help heal the cuts he had sustained, his mind went back to the scene at the restaurant.

After he had realised their attacker was one of the three who had stolen his memories, Potter had pressed down on some kind of button before firing off multiple spells.

" _What does that button do?" Draco couldn't help but inquire, staring down at the innocuous button, which laid now discarded on the floor._

" _It's a way for Aurors to call others if there's an emergency," Potter muttered before snapping his wand down and firing another curse. This one looked like a midnight blue lightning bolt._

" _You waited until now to call other Aurors?" Draco hissed outraged, ducking away from a hex which was meant to slice straight through muscles and bones._

_Despite being in the middle of a fight, Potter had enough time to look at him rather condescendingly and retort, "No, you idiot, I had already warned them from the start, but this one lets them know they're needed immediately."_

_That apparently was no lie as Draco suddenly picked up shouting from outside; a man yelling, "Drop your wand now!"_

Aurors had swarmed the street and as soon as they had closed in on the attacker, he had ripped straight through their half formed Anti-Apparition webs. Four Aurors had gone after him immediately while the others had taken care of him, Potter, and the rest of the people caught in the crossfire. They had all been escorted to Saint Mungos to get treated for the wounds they had sustained.

He was jerked back out of his musings when voices drifted towards him through the gap left by the open door. When he concentrated on them, he stilled when he realised the voices belonged to Potter and Shacklebolt.

"And he's certain that this man was one of his attackers?" Shacklebolt questioned wearily.

"Completely certain, yeah. The description seems to match," Potter muttered, sounding utterly exhausted.

Well, given what kind of magical feats he had just performed while being nearly due, that was to be expected and Draco was reluctantly impressed. He hadn't really realised before how extensive Potter's knowledge of hexes, curses and spells was and he guessed he should be glad he had never challenged the man badly enough to be subjected to one of his spells.

"They're still tracking him; I'm expecting a report of them within two hours," Shacklebolt said thoughtfully and his voice sharpened with worry when he asked, "Are you feeling okay? With the baby it can't have been - "

"I'm fine," Potter interrupted him, sounding vaguely annoyed. "The Healer examined me and nothing's wrong with the baby. I just have some bumps and bruises. Nothing a couple of hours of rest won't fix."

"I shouldn't have sent you to that meeting in your state," the Minister sighed, a bit bitter. "Someone else should have gone."

"Like who?" Potter retorted abruptly. "Casey and the rest of the team are talking to the other victims. Ron? That would be tempting him too much; not to mention they would have never agreed to meet with each other. Other Aurors? You know as well as I do they aren't objective - not when it comes to a case like this. I was the only one suitable and you know it."

"Doesn't mean I have to like it," Shacklebolt grunted.

"It is what it is," Potter replied dismissively. "Besides now we can clear all doubt. They're really after the victims who haven't - rebuilt their relationship. This attack today proved it. When will his guards be here?"

Some rustle of robes. "Should be in half an hour, one hour at most. They were at the scene as well, so it might take them some time."

"Minister, Harry," a new voice greeted them, lower pitched than that of Potter's.

"Chris," Potter greeted in return. "You're not one of the two bodyguards, right?"

"No, just here to guard the room until they've arrived," this Chris person answered lightly. "They're a bit hold up at the moment at Belle's but they should be here soon."

"All right, I leave you to it then," Shacklebolt said resolutely. "Be careful and don't lower your guard."

"I won't, sir," Chris promised and footsteps echoed through the corridor before they slowly died out.

Draco expected Potter to enter the room any moment now, but everything remained quiet, him being the only occupant of the room, and he sank back down against the pillows with a frown.

Given what he had just heard and what had occurred at the restaurant, he could no longer live in the assumption that this all had been an elaborate ruse for Potter to get him back. His attackers seemed intent on finishing what they had started; that had become abundantly clear just now.

"Fuck," he sighed and rubbed his forehead. He would have no choice but to accept those bloody bodyguards now. He could only hope they wouldn't be too intrusive. Surely they wouldn't have to be plastered to his side, right?

His frown deepened when he realised that considering the threat, it wouldn't be wise to take Astoria out in public. His attackers had shown today that they didn't even have qualms about potentially killing Harry Potter if it meant getting rid of him - if even the famous Boy-Who-Lived wasn't safe around him, a Pureblood girl would definitely not be spared.

_Damn them all to hell._

"Draco? Are you okay?"

He started at the unexpected sound of his mother's voice and he whipped his head around, staring at her surprised. "Mother, what are you doing here?"

She was dressed in pale blue robes and her hair was tied together in a loose braid. She pursed her lips together and approached his bed, sinking down gracefully on the chair on his right side. "I got the message that you were attacked and hurt. Your father stayed behind just in case they tried something at the manor. How bad is it?"

"Just some cuts; I'm fine. I have to stay for a few more hours, though, as a precaution," he sighed and idly wondered who had sent her a message. One of the Aurors?

"Who attacked you?" she questioned and her eyes darkened, even as her hand sought out his and took it in hers.

He swallowed, recalling all too well the brief moment of terror he had felt at seeing the man in front of him. "It was one of the three who attacked me five months ago."

Her face didn't change, but her hand tightened around his briefly and her eyes flashed and sharpened. "They're targeting you again?"

"Yes, that's what Potter wanted to talk about. They're apparently going after the ones they attacked once before to - to finish the job," he replied and against his will his voice caught at the end. Nobody liked contemplating they might die any moment now and the shock of what had happened today was starting to settle in slowly, making him feel inexplicably cold. He shivered and barely noticed mother casting a Cosy Warmth Spell. "The Aurors noticed the pattern and I'll have two bodyguards with me until they've caught them."

"Which can take a while," Mother surmised and pressed his lips tightly together. "I'm glad they caught on to the pattern before they could succeed in their new attack on you."

"I'll be happier once they've finally caught them," he muttered darkly, crossing his legs underneath the blanket.

"We will all be," she sighed and they both turned their heads around when someone knocked on the door.

"Yes?" he called out, wondering who it could be. A Healer or a Mediwitch would have simply walked in, politeness be damned. Was it that Chris fellow?

It was Potter, looking worse for wear.

"Harry, are you all right?" Mother demanded sharply and strode over to the other man, drawing him in an embrace as her hands went up and down over his arms and back - her way of assessing the damage.

Draco grimaced, but didn't protest when she tugged the dark haired man along to the second chair next to the bed.

"I'm okay, Narcissa," Potter reassured her tiredly, running a hand over his stomach. "Just some cuts and bruises, but the baby is fine. I just need some rest."

"Then why aren't you resting now?" She narrowed her eyes, regarding him disapprovingly.

He flapped his hand about. "I needed to discuss some things with the other Aurors. They're still following that man," he said, addressing Draco this time, who nodded stiffly. "We think they'll want to lay low for a while now, especially with a team after them, but from now on you'll be accompanied by two bodyguards wherever you go."

"Will they stay in the manor as well?" Mother inquired, tapping her chin thoughtfully.

Potter inclined his head. "Yes, they will. At least until we've caught them all. I know you don't like the prospect of it, but - "

"Nonsense, Harry. We're not going to spurn extra protection. Especially not after what happened today," she stated firmly.

"Not like I have much choice," Draco muttered underneath his breath. The sharp look Potter favoured him with let him known he had heard him.

"They're waiting outside actually," Potter said and rose up with some difficulty; clearly his balance was gone to shit with his huge stomach. "I'll get them and introduce you to each other."

As Potter slipped outside again, Draco felt blue eyes resting on him heavily. "What?" he muttered, feeling oddly defensive all of a sudden. Her soft, warm hand resting on his own made him stiffen for a few seconds, before he relaxed.

"I know you don't like the idea of bodyguards, but Draco, they are necessary," she stressed; her voice low enough not to be heard outside the room. "They're here to protect you."

"They could easily decide to do a shitty job of it just because of who I am," he pointed out with a sneer.

She shook her head and looked at him strangely for a moment. "No, they won't jeopardize your life."

"How would you know?" he retorted with a snort, crossing his arms.

"Because I very much doubt Harry would allow people to guard you who don't have your best interests at heart," she answered clipped and before he could say anything to that, though he didn't know what, the door opened again, forcing him to drop that line of conversation in order to meet his new bodyguards.

He could only hope they wouldn't be necessary for long.

* * *

"I was thinking we could hole up the entire weekend together," Draco murmured, drawing lazy circles on smooth skin, feeling muscles stretch underneath his touch as his lover blinked sleep away.

"Yeah? And what were you planning on doing then?" Warm amusement; no immediate protest. Interesting.

"Well, for one we could finally sleep in a little bit longer," the blond man smirked and shifted a bit, stilling his hand in favour of trailing his lips over a warm back, hearing the sigh of contentment and feeling a hand resting on the back of his thigh. "And then we could spend the entire day together in bed, only leaving it to go to the bathroom."

"Hm, sounds interesting. But what of food?"

"I'm certain the house elves won't mind delivering our meals to us." That was one of their regular tasks anyway.

"What about your parents, though? I like your mother, but _she knows everything_."

Draco laughed at the horrified tone and nuzzled a spot in the slender neck which had been tempting him to bite down for a while now. "Relax," he breathed out, watching delighted how goose bumps formed underneath his mouth. "My parents are going to Paris for the weekend."

"Oh? Enjoying a romantic trip?"

"Hm, at my mother's insistence."

"I hadn't expected anything else."

Draco clucked his tongue. "Be nice."

"Coming from you, that's rich, don't you think so?" Dark hair glinted in the setting sunlight. "But fine, I'll be nice. I can be good."

"Yeah?" Draco murmured, his eyes half lidded as heat stirred in his lower belly. He licked his lips as his eyes hungrily devoured the tantalising sight of his lover spread out underneath him; slender legs opened to welcome him in the middle and arms reaching out to tug him closer. "You'll be good for me?"

A soft laugh against his lips, warm breath mingling with his own. "Why don't I show you how good I can be?" Lips covered his, fingers slipped through blond strands and tightened around them as their kiss deepened, growing more forceful.

Deep green filled his vision before he closed his eyes and let himself be swept away by the current of their passion, shifting until their hips pressed together.

"Draco, I ..."

He shot up; his heart thundering in his chest and sounding too loud in his ears. Sweat coated his body, soaking his pyjamas and he pressed his hand in front of his mouth, wondering whether he would start throwing up. His stomach definitely felt twisted up enough for that.

_He had been dreaming about Potter._

Not just any dream, no, a dream in which he and Potter had been about to ...

Grey eyes flew open and he stared down, though the darkness in his bedroom didn't allow him to see anything, except for the vague shapes of his blankets and the nightstand. What the hell kind of dream had that been? Why the fuck would he dream about Potter like that all of a sudden? He had never dreamt about him before, so why now?

Shuddering he pulled his shirt away from his chest, grimacing at the sticky feeling. His sweat was cooling off, pricking his skin, and he couldn't supress a shiver as he slipped out of bed on unsteady legs. In the bathroom he took a quick shower to wash off the disgusting sweat and watched impassively how the water swirled around before disappearing into the drain. Leaning his forehead against the cold, white tiles, he thought about the dream. It had felt so real that for a moment after waking up he had expected Potter to be lying next to him.

What had triggered that type of dream? He hadn't heard anything of the younger man since they had left the hospital last Friday. It didn't make sense for him to start dreaming about the git now; he hadn't done that before since waking up after the first attack.

"Damn it," he hissed, scowling down at the bottom of the shower before he abruptly shut off the water and stepped out, towelling himself dry quickly. He pulled on a fresh pair of pyjamas, leaving his old ones on the floor for the house elves to find them, and traipsed back to his bed. The shower had only made him feel physically clean; his mind was still a muddled mess when he slipped back between the blankets.

The door creaked open. "Are you all right, Mister Malfoy?" Eric Bloom asked in a whisper, blending in with the darkness.

He was one of the two bodyguards assigned to Draco after the attack on Friday. His partner, Ally Springing, must either be resting or patrolling.

"I'm fine," Draco replied dismissively, not wanting to go into details as to why he was up in the middle of the night.

The door closed again, leaving him alone. He had to give it to them: they weren't nosy and they stayed out of his bedroom and bathroom, choosing to wait outside. It was still a pain in the arse to have them following him wherever he went unless he was in the bathroom or sleeping, but he supposed begrudgingly that he could have worse people for bodyguards.

He resolutely refused to think about why he had got so lucky with them.

Laying back down he pulled the blankets over him; their weight comforting and warm. He still had a couple of hours before he would have to be up; he'd try to catch some sleep, which hopefully this time wouldn't be plagued with dreams about Potter.

He ignored the way his stomach flipped oddly and closed his eyes. A few more hours of sleep would do him well.

* * *

When he woke up again four hours later he felt more rested and he was determined not to think about the dream anymore. It had just been a dream after all; nothing more.

He found the Morning Prophet waiting for him on the breakfast table after he was done freshening himself up and he cast an idle glance at it, not really interested in the drivel the paper liked to sprout.

One title, however, caught his attention and he frowned, picking up the paper.

**New Love Interest for Harry Potter?**

_As you all surely still remember - for it has not been that long since it happened - Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy broke up a couple of months ago. The Malfoy heir had no qualms in almost immediately flaunting his new love interest after the break-up, Astoria Greengrass. They have been spotted several times out in public and both have declared their intention to court one another, though they refused a more in depth interview with this paper._

_On our Hero's side, it remained equally as silent, though he appeared to have no interest in anyone - not that any of us could blame him, considering his situation. He clearly needed more time to get over the break-up than Draco Malfoy did and nobody can begrudge him that._

_Today, however, we at the Daily Prophet can bring you the news that our dear, beloved hero might actually have fallen for someone else. Who, you may ask? None other than Blaise Zabini, son of the beautiful Isabella Zabini, who has become known for her marriages to several influential wizards._

_Mr Potter and Mr Zabini were spotted together yesterday as they were leaving Saint Mungos and they looked particularly cosy when they shared lunch at the Silver Moon, which as most of you will surely know is an establishment with a mostly rich clientele._

_They have yet to announce their potential new relationship status and our reporter did not have the heart to disturb them as he felt that Mister Potter was entitled to a brief moment of rest in the ocean of turbulence which has been his life up until now._

_We could not withhold the photos, however, and we invite you to look at them and form your own conclusions of the relationship between the two men._

Underneath the article, covering nearly the entire front page, were several pictures of Potter and Blaise. There was one of them exiting the hospital together; Blaise's left arm hidden behind Potter's back and when they turned around, everyone could see his hand was resting on the pregnant man's back. Another one showed Blaise holding the door open of the restaurant for Potter as the younger man shook his head and smiled. A third one had them leaning quite closely together over the small table they were sharing, talking animatedly. Potter laughed, throwing his head back, and Blaise smirked in response, raising his glass of wine in a toast.

Yet another one saw them leaving the restaurant together and they paused next to the building before Blaise placed his hand on Potter's stomach and bent his head down to him to murmur something. Whatever he said, had Potter shaking his head with a smile and squeezing the dark skinned man's wrist before they walked out of the frame.

Wordlessly Draco stared as each scene repeated itself over and over again in the pictures, vaguely aware of his two bodyguards leaning against the wall.

"Mister Malfoy, are you okay?" Ally questioned; her light blue eyes flitting between his face and the paper he was clenching in his hands.

Well, this was interesting. It looked like his best friend was closer with Potter than he had initially admitted.

A lot closer.

* * *

"Wait here," Draco snapped, halting in front of the closed door of Blaise's study, where a house elf had said he would be.

Eric and Ally exchanged a look. "Considering this is territory we aren't familiar with," Eric started cautiously, his hand resting on his wand, "we feel it would be safer if we went in there with you."

Draco snorted derisively. "Trust me, that bastard has layered so many protection charms around his room, enemies will have quite the hard time getting in here. I'll be fine." He knocked on the door and entered the study before either Blaise could give his permission or his bodyguards could stop him.

His friend was seated behind his desk and looked up surprised at the blond wizard's entrance. "Hello, yes, Draco, please come in," he stated dryly, waving him closer. He put down his quill and leant back in his chair, quirking an eyebrow. "To what do I owe the pleasure of this unexpected visit?"

Draco approached the desk and raised an eyebrow in return. "Were you expecting someone else to visit you perhaps?" he asked mildly and rested his hands on the chair in front of him.

Confusion flickered up in dark eyes for a moment. "Who are you talking about?"

"A certain speck eyed git perhaps?" Draco sneered. He didn't know exactly why he was so bothered by the idea of Blaise and Potter being potentially together, but he was and that only served to aggravate him even further.

Blaise's face shuttered close and he shook his head. "You read the Prophet," he stated resigned.

"I did." Draco nodded and narrowed his eyes. "They were quite the interesting pictures, I must say."

The other man frowned, tapping his fingers on his desk. "There isn't any truth in that article, which you should know, considering it's written by the Prophet. Even if it was, though," he leant forwards, clasping his hands together, "what would it matter? You broke up with him months ago, remember?"

He remembered, yes. "It doesn't. I just never imagined you to go for sloppy seconds," he smirked, but his heart started beating quicker for some reason.

Immediately Blaise's eyes hardened and he sat up straight. "Don't call him that, Draco," he said coldly.

The blond man shrugged, recognising all too well he was treading dangerous ground now, but not willing to back off. "Just stating it as it is. What, is he going around looking for another Pureblood wizard to take up the father's role and you're the poor bastard he snagged first? I didn't realise you had lowered your standards that much, Blaise."

The next second he clutched his right hand with a yelp, feeling like a bolt of electricity had just hit him. The chair screeched loudly as Blaise shoved it backwards and the blond wizard stilled when a wand was aimed at him.

"I don't know what the fuck your problem with Harry is and frankly I don't care," Blaise began and his voice was so cold, Draco expected ice to start forming in the air any second now. "But this needs to stop. You broke up with him and denied your son and in all this, he has never said a bad word about you, which frankly astonishes me. You've done enough, so I suggest you keep your mouth shut about him."

"You're taking his side now too? I thought you were _my_ friend?" Draco bit out, becoming furious at the way everyone readily jumped to defending Potter of all people. They were supposed to be _his_ friends, so why was nobody taking his side? Why did bloody Potter get to have everything and he didn't?

"There are no fucking sides, Draco!" Blaise exploded and his wand sparked furiously. "What the hell do you even want? Why are you here? You don't care about Harry anymore, so what does it matter if he and I would be together?"

Draco opened his mouth to retort, but was cut off by Blaise, who shook his head and glared at him. "Get out."

"Excuse me?" Draco brought out shocked.

"You heard me. Get out," Blaise repeated coldly, slipping his wand back into his pocket. "If you can't get your head out of your arse long enough to realise how badly you fucked up, then there's no need for us to continue being friends."

"You're choosing _Potter_ over me?" Draco spat furiously, clenching his hands into fists, trembling with rage.

"Honestly? Yes, because the person standing in front of me now is not the man I grew up with," Blaise answered quietly; his face as hard as stone. "I don't know you anymore, Draco, and I'm not sure I even want to know this version of you. Leave."

"Have fun fucking those used goods," Draco hissed spitefully and stormed out of the room before Blaise could go through with his desire to hex him.

Fuck Blaise. Fuck Potter.

Just fuck them all. He didn't need them. He was better off without them.

_Damn them all._

* * *

Christmas passed in a blur. As usually the manor was decorated lavishly and a ball was held, but unlike other years, Draco couldn't find it in him to enjoy the festivities. He had become acutely aware of just how few people he had in his life now that even Blaise refused to be his friend anymore and it left a bitter taste behind.

He wasn't planning on apologising, though. He had done nothing wrong. If they preferred Potter over him, he was better off without them. He was busy with his potion business and with his courtship anyway; he didn't need them. Once the courtship would reach its endgame, he would have broadened his friend circle once more, thanks to moving in different social circles with the Greengrass family and he would show Pansy and Blaise he didn't need them.

Still, the bitter sensation of feeling betrayed was hard to shake off.

* * *

The new year had just finished its first new week when Draco entered the dining room, ready to eat breakfast. His bodyguards - unfortunately still a necessity - trailed behind him like shadows and stationed themselves at the window and the door. Having expected both his parents to be seated at the table to share breakfast as was their Sunday ritual, he was therefore quite surprised to only see his father sipping calmly from a cup of coffee.

Sinking down on the chair, he lifted his own cup of steaming black coffee and asked, "Is mother not feeling well?" That could be the only explanation as to why she wasn't currently with them.

Father raised an eyebrow. "No, she's well," he answered and the corners of his mouth quirked up with a trace of amusement. "She was called away, however, and won't be here until late in the afternoon I suspect."

"Who called her away?" Draco frowned, taking a sip of his coffee. It was very unusual for mother to prefer another activity over having breakfast with her family. The Minister himself could demand her time and she would still ignore him for as long as breakfast was going on.

Father looked at him thoughtfully. "Potter did," he replied after a pause.

The younger wizard stiffened and lowered his cup on the table with a harsher 'click' than he had intended. "Why?" he questioned coolly.

Father leant back in his chair. "Because he's gone into labour," he explained with a thin smile.

Draco's fingers tightened around his knife. "I've told you I don't consider that child my son," he stated coldly.

Father stood up and raised an eyebrow. "You might no longer consider him your son, but your mother and I still consider him our grandson, so he's still a Malfoy by birth. We never agreed to disown him after all," he pointed out mildly and paused before adding lightly, "Enjoy your breakfast, son."

He left the room, leaving his son behind in cold silence.

* * *

Mother returned that evening, eyes glittering with pride and love and her cheeks rose with excitement, but she didn't tell Draco anything about the baby; not even his name.

Draco didn't ask.

* * *

It was nearly the end of January when Draco received a special order from one of his highest paying clients. He loved receiving orders like this one, because they challenged his skills and they were a nice change from the routine potions he usually had to make.

There was only one issue: three of the necessary ingredients were considered illegal and only sold in Knockturn Alley. Normally he had no trouble purchasing those ingredients - money was money after all and it didn't matter to him what kind of potion resulted in him receiving that money.

Having two Aurors as bodyguards and needing to enter Knockturn Alley? That was a disaster waiting to happen. He very much doubted they would turn a blind eye if he went to a place like that. Without those ingredients, however, he wouldn't be able to create the potion. Substitutions couldn't be allowed in this case. He would need to shake off his bodyguards, though, and how was he supposed to do that? They stuck to him like they had been hit with a Sticky Charm and they utterly refused to leave his side for even a minute whenever he ventured outside the manor.

"Hm." He narrowed his eyes and stared contemplatively at the closed door of his bedroom; behind it, the two guards were stationed, ready to start following him the second he opened that door.

How to fool them ...

An idea started growing in his mind and he smirked, slipping his wand out of his pocket. Yes, that would work out nicely and he would be back before either one of them would notice he was gone.

No harm, no foul after all.

* * *

The spell he had cast would leave part of his magical residue in the room until the moment he took it down. Anyone checking his magical signature would assume he was just sitting in his room; Draco would be worried that the guards would physically check on him, but he had noticed that they never looked inside his room unless he made some noise of distress or stood up in the middle of the night.

It being the middle of the day, they wouldn't start becoming suspicious until several hours had passed at least and by then he would be back with the ingredients and they would be none the wiser.

It was a fool proof plan.

The wooden door slammed shut behind him, causing the window to rattle slightly, as he stepped outside the apothecary, concealing the bag with the ingredients within his cloak. He had been fortunate to purchase the last stock of the ingredients and now he could go home and start brewing the potion.

As he started walking down the alley, keeping his head down and avoiding looking at the other people mingling around, he mentally recalled the recipe and checked it to make certain he had everything in stock.

"Draco Malfoy?"

He halted and furrowed his eyebrows, not recognising the low voice immediately. "Who might you be?" he asked and started turning around, ignoring the question for now.

Pain suddenly exploded in his head, making him gasp aloud and his ears ringing, and he grasped his head, stumbling around. The pain increased until it felt like his eyes would pop out from the pressure and he sagged down with a wordless scream like a puppet whose strings were cut down.

And then there was nothing but darkness.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: Only around two more chapters left, guys! And yes, I know, you all hate me now LOL
> 
> I hope it wasn't too bad! Some scenes were harder to write than others ... Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me!
> 
> The next chapter will be posted on the third of November. See you all then!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: I stayed up until half past two in the morning to finish this chapter, so if the last scene sucks, blame my sleep deprived mind *coughs* Overall, though, I'm actually quite happy with this chapter LOL I hope you'll be too!
> 
> Thanks for all the kudos and the comments! I really appreciate them!
> 
> Warnings: Torture; angst; brief reference to threat of rape in the past; implied mature content
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

_Chapter 13_

His head was throbbing fiercely when he became conscious, as if his head had been slammed several times against a hard surface. His vision swam, his sight blurry, and it made it hard to discern where he was. He was strung up across a rough wall; his arms and legs spread out and shackled with invisible restraints. His wand had been dropped a couple of feet away from him, but in his bound state he had no hope of picking it up. There was no other sound aside from his laboured breathing and he slowly raised his head, hissing when another bolt of pain went straight through his head, down to his neck.

The room he had been stashed in was devoid of any furniture. There were no windows and the only exit was barred by a wooden door. He was bound against the wall opposite of the door and when he studied the walls better, nausea filled him at the sight of old blood spatters. Some of them even reached the ceiling and his mind shied away from contemplating what kind of wounds would cause blood to splash that high up.

It didn't look good for him at all.

How long had he been here? Dread filled his stomach when he remembered the spell he had used in his room before he had sneaked out. Depending on how long he had been here, it could take hours before his two bodyguards discovered he was gone. And then what? They had no idea where he had gone and more hours would pass before they would even think of looking in Knockturn Alley. _If_ they even thought of checking there at all.

He was royally fucked and it was all his own fault. He _knew_ he had a target painted on his back and yet he still had gone out without the Aurors. How bloody stupid could he have been? No amount of money or prestige was worth losing his life and yet he had left his guards behind. For what?

_A stupid potion._

There was no doubt in his mind that he would be killed by whoever had abducted him. Knocking somebody unconscious and hanging them in a room with its walls full of blood didn't exactly sound like a social call.

He refused to die here, though. Like hell was he going to be as meek as a lamb and await his execution. He closed his eyes and concentrated on the thrum of his magic, gently humming in the back of his mind. Normally he preferred to let his magic flow through his wand, as he had never got quite the hang of wandless magic, but desperate times called for desperate measures. His wand was out of reach and who knew how much time he had left before someone would come for him?

So he concentrated, following one of the many threads leading to the core of his magic. It pulsated gently, a soft green light he had grown accustomed to once he had learnt to pinpoint his core. He pulled at it carefully, urging his magic to rise to the surface and break through the invisible shackles.

His magic obeyed and steadily started rising to the surface, warming him from within. His fingertips and toes tingled and he wiggled his fingers, anticipating the moment his magic would burst out. It was nearly at the surface, thrumming right underneath his skin, and then -

It fizzled out. Like a flame being put out by water.

"No," he breathed out furiously, jerking his hands and feet, but nothing gave. They had put a Drainage Curse on the shackles. Every bit of magic used would be swallowed up by them before it could do anything.

He tried again, forcing an even greater burst of magic through his body, but all it did was making him exhausted and his muscles taut; his skin stretching too tight.

"Ah, you're awake."

The nonchalant, gruff voice had Draco whipping his head up and he stared at the wizard who had just entered the room. He had never seen his face before, but his posture and gruff voice made alarm bells go off.

One of his attackers.

"Allow me to introduce myself," the man smiled thinly; his dark brown eyes gazing coldly at Draco. "My name is David Loch. Does it ring any bells?"

Silently Draco shook his head, watching warily how Loch approached him leisurely. He kicked Draco's wand to the right wall and halted two feet away from him.

"No, perhaps not," Loch said mildly, but the way his fingers tightened around his wand belied his true feelings. "I guess after torturing so many people, names tend to blend together, hm?"

"I don't know - "

Loch raised his voice a notch higher. "On the seventh of February my niece, Shelley Loch, was dumped on the porch of her parents' house, barely clinging to life. She had been tortured by Death Eaters and her wounds were so severe her parents have never been able to tell the rest of the family what happened to her. You know who one of her torturers was?" His voice descended into a dangerous whisper.

Draco closed his eyes, bile rising up in his throat. Yes, he remembered Shelley. He hadn't known her last name, but that day, the seventh of February, was burnt into his mind forever.

Before, he had managed to get away with only using some Burn Hexes or Stingers, but that day his Aunt Bellatrix had supervised him and had threatened to let Fenrir have a go at Draco's mother if he didn't take his task seriously. She had mused aloud how she might even lock up Narcissa with Wooding, a Death Eater who had revelled in raping and torturing women. Desperate to keep his mother safe, Draco had thrown every non-lethal curse and hex he knew at Shelley, locking his feelings up behind an iron wall in his mind to ignore her pleading and screaming. It had been horrifying and Draco had been reassured to have nightmares for months by the time Aunt Bellatrix had decided he had done enough and had finished the job.

"Yes, it seems you remember her now," Loch remarked coolly.

"I'm sorry," Draco whispered, staring down at the ground in shame. "I know it won't mean anything to you, but I'm really sorry I hurt your niece. I did it to protect my mother and I know that's not an excuse."

Loch snorted; the harsh sound making Draco flinch. "Well, you're right that it's not an excuse," he said coldly. "But I'm not surprised. Death Eater filth protects their own, right?" He turned his head and beckoned to someone outside.

"What - what are you going to do?" Draco asked fearfully, watching with rising panic how more people entered the room. Unlike Loch their faces remained hidden beneath their hoods, but their wands were all trained upon him as they formed a half circle.

"We are part of the Band of the Rising Phoenix," Loch explained, taking his place between two hooded figures. "When the war ended, we were hopeful that the guilty parties would be punished accordingly. Instead, we had to listen in despair as Death Eaters were given light sentences or were even released, because there wasn't 'enough evidence' to accuse you," he spat out the last sentence; his eyes flaring up with anger.

A broad shouldered wizard spoke, "Our families lost loved ones due to Death Eaters. We are forced to live with the loss, with the gaping holes left behind in our hearts, while you and every other scum are allowed to walk free and enjoy your life. Our loved ones don't get that chance anymore!"

This time a woman, standing almost directly next to Draco, took over. "We wallowed in our despair for a while, before we realised that we have the power to _do something_. If the Wizengamot refuses to be on our side, we have to carry out justice on our own."

"Azkaban is too heavily warded." Loch again; a sinister smile was blooming across his face. "So we decided to focus on the ones who managed to get off scot-free. If we had to say goodbye to our loved ones, why would you be allowed to keep yours?"

A wizard, stockier built than Loch, explained almost in a bored tone, "We researched the best way to carry out justice. It took us a long time, but we stumbled upon an interesting spell. You see this spell works twofold: it uses the aversity you have felt towards a specific person and the love you feel for them. Naturally this spell doesn't work equally well on everyone, but where it can't find aversity to feed itself with, it turns towards the love one feels."

"What do you mean?" Draco whispered horrified. He would ask them whether it was a smart idea to tell him what exactly they had done, but he knew why they were speaking so freely now: they weren't planning on giving him any chances to go blabbing.

"We combined this spell with the Memory Puller," the man continued calmly. "One of us uses the Memory Puller on specific memories, pulling them out. Then we use the Cor Diverbero Curse. It brings the aversity to the front and any love you feel for your partner will be turned into indifference. The longer it is allowed to fester, the more indifference will turn into hatred. That combined with the loss of memories will eventually make you turn everyone against you. Unfortunately the spell's weakness are in fact memories. If the intended manages to push past the indifference and create new memories with their partner, the spell will weaken."

"As was shown with some of the people we brought justice down upon," Loch admitted begrudgingly. He shook his head mournfully. "They managed to build their relationship anew, but we won't lower ourselves to the level of the likes of you. We will allow them their peace. We managed to bring justice down upon the ones who deserved it the most after all."

He looked at Draco and a grin, sharp enough to rival that of a shark, lit up his face. "For months we tried to find a way to get you. Who would be a better example of our justice than you, Draco Malfoy? You, whose family was in the inner most circle of You-Know-Who. You, who tortured countless people, who managed to walk away with nothing but a slap on the wrist thanks to Harry Potter. You, who managed to sully Mister Potter with your darkness. You can't imagine how pleasing it was for us to watch how you destroyed singlehandedly every precious relationship you had."

A bark of sharp laughter escaped him and he threw his head back, looking joyful. He shook his head with a faint smile. "I admit, for a while we thought we had failed. You continued to live with Mister Potter and nothing seemed amiss between the two of you. If we hadn't been the ones to punish you, we wouldn't have even known you were cursed! But it seems like your true nature caught up to you eventually and you showed the entire world who you really are: a ruthless Dark Wizard, lacking the capacity to really love. I feel sorry for Mister Potter, though. It must have hurt him greatly to realise that the man he was about to pledge his life to couldn't muster up even a shred of the love he must have felt for you. You had everything, Malfoy, and you lost everything with nobody to blame but yourself. The world will thank us once we're done getting rid of the likes of you."

"You're insane," was all Draco could utter, as his mind tried to comprehend what he had just been told. Numbness was settling in; even his thoughts quietened down as shock took over.

"No, Mister Malfoy, I can promise you I am of sound mind," Loch chuckled and raised his wand, sobering up instantly. "Enough chitter-chatter. It's time for the final part in your punishment."

Before Draco could even open his mouth, a beam of bright yellow light hit him straight in his chest and he choked when his lungs were forcibly squeezed together, like a large hand was clenching down around them. He choked and sputtered and tried to inhale, but the grip around his lungs only tightened and dark spots were appearing around the edges of his vision as panic completely blocked off his throat.

Before he lost consciousness again, the vice grip around his lungs suddenly disappeared and he coughed violently, his lungs burning, as he tried to inhale air as quickly as he could; becoming lightheaded.

"This is only the beginning," Loch stated coldly.

* * *

It was.

Curse after curse, hex after hex hit him, unleashing unimaginable agony upon him. There was the Cruciatus Curse for a moment, of which the pure agony was so indescribable he nearly tore his vocal cords to shreds with his screaming. There was the Slashing Curse, opening up deep cuts in his arms and legs. Salt was rubbed over those open wounds; his fingernails torn off; his kneecaps shattered; his ribs broken one by one, some of them poking straight through his skin. Several of his muscles were ripped apart, mangled between the fragments of broken bones. His blood turned into liquid fire at one point, burning him from the inside out. Invisible punches landed in his stomach and face, breaking his nose and slamming all the air out of him.

It was a never ending barrage of utter agony and his mind was lost in the white hot haze of pain, drowning him, pulling him under, making him beg for mercy and darkness, for anything to stop this pain, to relieve him of it.

Every cell in his body was screaming; snot and blood and Merlin knew what else dripping down his face, blood sluggishly welling up from his wounds, _plop, plop_ , down on the floor.

He had lost his voice somewhere, his throat feeling like it was on fire, claws racking across the sensitive tissue, and it took him several moments to sluggishly realise the voices had stopped. He was nothing but a bleeding mess by now; no longer even able to cry. His life force was slowly draining away, darkness creeping up at the edges. The sound of his rattling breath filled his ears and he tasted nothing but blood.

It wouldn't be long anymore.

The sound of approaching footsteps echoed through the sudden silent room, bouncing back between the walls. Draco's head drooped down; all his strength had left him and he no longer had the energy to look up. Instead he stared blankly through one eye, his other too bruised and swollen to be of any use, and black shoes entered his hazy vision.

Fingers pushed his chin up and he was too far gone to even groan as the action caused even more pain to flare up, steadily pounding down on him, in him.

Loch clucked his tongue and shook his head ruefully. "You don't look that well, Mister Malfoy," he murmured, trying to catch Draco's eye.

The blond man just stared unseeingly at him, wishing for everything to just _end_.

"You know, we, the Band of the Rising Phoenix, we're not without mercy," Loch continued softly, slipping his other hand down into his pocket. "We won't let you suffer for too long anymore. In fact before we end your suffering, we'll give you one last gift."

A dark blue bottle was waved back and forth in front of Draco's face, but the throbbing pain made it difficult to concentrate on whatever was swirling inside it.

"You see, as our act of mercy for you, we will give you your memories back. Who doesn't want to leave this earth with as last image your loved ones? Realising just how much you hurt them?" Loch laughed cruelly and snatched blond hair, pulling back roughly.

Draco gasped and then something thick and cold suddenly was poured straight down his throat. For a moment nothing happened.

Then he was _drowning._

* * *

_He shivered, wrapping his arms around himself. The ropes with which he was bound to the wall tugged at his wrists and he crawled closer to the wall. Straining his ears, he tried to pick any sound from the floor above him._

_It remained eerily silent and he swallowed; his stomach cramping. Silence wasn't a good thing; not in this place._

_He pulled his legs up, ignoring how his muscles protested, and hid his face against his knees; his heart hammering inside his chest. Tensed, he remained huddled in the corner, starting at every small creak and groan the building emitted._

_He nearly jumped out of his skin when the iron door opened, releasing that awful, deep groan that would haunt him in his dreams for nights to come. Carefully he raised his head and held his breath when the door of the cell was unlocked and Potter stumbled into view, looking more dead than alive. He was roughly pushed forwards and he fell down on his knees with a gasp, catching his fall with his hands before he buckled through them. Their cell was closed as quickly as it had been opened and the Dark Wizard who had captured Draco a - was it a week ago, two weeks, maybe more? - muttered something underneath his breath, ambling back the way he had come from. But not before casting new ropes around Potter's wrists, binding him as tightly as Draco was._

_For a while the two men in the cell remained silent; Potter splayed out across the filthy floor as he panted, his face set in a pained grimace. Eventually he rose up on shaking arms and legs and flopped down next to Draco, clearly exhausted._

" _He was supposed to take me." Draco froze as the words left his mouth and tensed up._

_Potter turned his head slowly to him, blinking at him sluggishly through his smudged glasses. "I know," he said quietly. "I took your place instead." He shrugged as if he had just answered a question in class instead of having his magic forced to the surface and into the open, risking insanity._

" _Why?" Draco had already resigned himself to his fate. If the Dark Wizard had even managed to capture and subdue Potter,_ he _didn't stand any chance of surviving._

" _Because you've already suffered enough," Potter continued in the same soft voice. He looked away and sighed. "You've been here for longer than I am. I can take it."_

" _You don't look like it," Draco snarked, digging his fingers into his legs._

_Instead of being offended, Potter chuckled roughly. "No, I guess I don't," he agreed and then sank down against the wall. "He'll leave us alone for a while now, though." His eyes were drooping; his whole form screaming exhaustion._

_Grey eyes studied his former rival carefully, noting the way his fingers kept twitching as if electric currents were going through them. "Rest, Potter," he muttered and glanced away; something odd twisting in his chest._

_He didn't receive any reply, but then something warm pressed against his arm and he froze, turning his head slowly around. It was Potter, dead to the world and his head resting against Draco's arm._

_He hesitated, debating whether he should do it or not, but then he carefully, slowly, brought his arm around Potter, arranging him more comfortably against his chest. Potter sighed in his sleep, but didn't wake up and that was perhaps the greatest sign of trust he could show. It made Draco swallow, feeling oddly like he had just been handed something precious. He looked away again, taking a shuddering breath._

_He supposed there were worse people to be locked up with than Potter._

_XXX_

_So far everything was going perfectly. Draco had managed to reserve a table for two at the Golden Rose, which hadn't been easy given its popularity during the evenings. It was one of the most expensive restaurants in England, yes, but his company tonight was more than worth the prices they asked here._

_The food was delicious and the dark red Elven wine slid over his tongue like silk, warming him from the inside. Conversation was flowing well, interspersed with some laughter at times. So far, so good._

" _I don't think she has ever forgiven him for ruining her favourite sweater," Draco smirked, finishing his story about the day Blaise had managed to spill two types of drinks and one Rainbow Colour Potion on Pansy's favourite cashmere sweater. Pansy's face had looked like she had swallowed the Rainbow Colour Potion once she had witnessed the damage it had done._

_Harry laughed, throwing his head back, and Draco's smirk deepened into a pleased smile. He had been nervous the whole time ever since Harry had agreed to go on a date with him two days ago and the fear of screwing up still lurked in the back of his mind. Certainly, since surviving the torture of the Dark Wizard, they had been on better terms, but being on good terms didn't automatically guarantee a successful date. Especially because he hadn't been certain that Harry would be open to dating men. More specifically: whether he would have been open to dating_ Draco _._

_Imagine his shock when the dark haired man had said yes to his date proposal. Once out of sight of everyone, he had actually cast a mild Stinging Hex on himself to check whether he had been dreaming or not._

_He knew other people would think they were going too quickly - Weasley especially had not kept it a secret how he distrusted Draco's motive for wanting to date Harry. But he didn't care. This felt right and if in the end it didn't work out, well, at least they had tried. He would just take it one day at a time._

" _Did she take revenge?" Harry asked amused, taking a sip of his own glass of wine. His eyes were shining like the gemstone they resembled in the candles floating around them._

_The blond man scoffed. "Of course she did. It's Pansy; she wouldn't let something like that go unpunished."_

_Harry leant forwards, looking interested. "What did she do?"_

" _She cursed all his clothes to turn into an ugly mustard yellow with bright blue spots for a month - which was the month in which he had several important appointments," Draco replied, shaking his head. He was still torn between feeling amused and sympathetic towards Blaise. Mustard yellow really wasn't the man's colour._

_The dark haired man whistled impressed. "Damn, remind me to never piss her off," he said admiringly._

_A pleasant jolt went through Draco as he realised the implications of Harry's comment and he couldn't help but duck his head down when he felt his cheeks heat up a bit. Such a remark - that could only mean Harry wasn't opposed to watching this thing unfold between them, right?_

_A shadow fell over them and Draco looked up surprised, wondering whether it was a fan of Harry's. He clenched his jaw when he met cool, blue eyes._

_Astoria Greengrass was standing next to the table; her hair done in those soft curls she tended to favour. Her dark blue robes were form fitting and some kind of silver thread was worked into the edges of her sleeves, forming little roses. She met grey eyes for a moment before her gaze landed on Harry, who blinked and stared back questioningly._

" _Yes, can we help you?" he asked curiously, lowering his knife and fork to his plate._

_She ignored him and turned to look at Draco again; her face resembling that of a stone statue. "You ended our courtship for this?" Her voice was frosty, but her eyes were spitting fire._

_Draco tensed and felt green eyes resting on him. It was true that he had started courting Astoria a while ago, but he had broken that courtship two weeks ago. It wasn't as if they had been courting for that long either. The beginning stage had barely started when Draco had realised Astoria wasn't a great match for him. Partly because he had realised his interest in Harry ran deeper than just being friends, but also because she was just too dull for him. She had gone along with everything he had suggested; there wasn't any real fire. He might as well court a puppet._

" _I told you why, Astoria," he answered clipped, narrowing his eyes slightly._

_She snorted, an ugly sound that did nothing to improve Draco's opinion of her, and addressed Harry. "I do not understand what he sees in you, considering the differences," she stated, wrinkling her nose, "and I would feel offended if I thought you had any chance of keeping his attention for long. As it stands, enjoy your time with him, for I assure you it will not last long." She sniffed and abruptly turned around; her heels tapping loudly on the tiles as she left the restaurant with her older sister following her with a frown._

" _What a pleasant woman," Harry remarked flatly; his face giving nothing away._

_Draco grimaced and rubbed his forehead; his appetite completely gone now. It had all started so well ... Of course it had to go sideways._

" _I swear that this between us is not some passing fancy as she would like you to believe," he said, hoping to Merlin Astoria hadn't just managed to fuck up everything between them._

" _It's a good thing that I'm not that easy to influence then," Harry retorted, faintly smiling._

_The younger man didn't appear offended, but Draco had a hard time relaxing after that interruption, dreading the end of their date. Harry had said he wasn't easily influenceable, but well ..._

_Their past together wasn't that great after all._

_All too soon they were standing in front of the door of Grimmauld Place Twelve - a temporary residence Harry had assured him with a grimace._

_Harry broke the awkward silence with a small smile, fiddling with the clasp of his robes. "Well, I had a great time," he said brightly._

_Draco eyed him suspiciously. "I can't tell whether you're lying or not," he admitted begrudgingly._

" _Why would I be lying?" Harry raised an eyebrow, regarding the blond wizard bemused._

" _First dates usually don't tend to get interrupted by spiteful people," Draco pointed out tersely._

" _Well, I've never done things the usual or normal way," Harry remarked lightly, nudging Draco's arm playfully. When Draco looked away with his lips pursed, the dark haired man sighed softly and surprised the other one by grabbing his hand. "Really, Draco, I had a great time and I'm looking forward to our next date."_

That _made Draco whip his head around and his eyes widened. "You mean it?" he asked and he hated how uncertain he sounded. "Because Astoria is wrong. You're not - you're not just some fling to me."_

_Harry's features softened and he nodded. "Yes, I mean it. I'm not planning on listening to her anyway." He paused and the corners of his mouth pulled up in a mischievous smile. "Now, are you going to kiss me or do I need to make the first move?"_

" _So bossy," Draco murmured, but lowered his head and a soft sound of surprise left his throat when he connected with Harry's lips sooner than he expected. They were soft and pliable underneath his and he slipped his hands down Harry's back, pulling him closer._

_Their kiss started off hesitant, but the second Draco put more pressure behind it, it was as if a fire had been lit and Harry returned his kiss hungrily, pressing himself impossibly close towards the taller man. Their lips moved, their tongues brushed briefly together and fireworks went off in Draco's head; heat quickly building up in his lower stomach._

_It was as if he had been deprived of oxygen for ages and now he was tasting the sweet air in the form of Harry's mouth against his._

_Their mouths separated with a wet gasp and they stood there, panting for a while, their lungs greedily taking in the cool night air, as they got lost in each other's eyes._

" _So, eh, second date?" Harry questioned in a high voice; cheeks coloured a rose red._

" _Second date, yeah," Draco agreed, his voice rough, and his arms tightened around Harry's waist._

_Yeah, second date sounded marvellous._

_XXX_

_He was directing the last pile of shirts into the large wardrobe when he became aware of eyes resting upon his back. With a flick of his wand, the door of the wardrobe closed with a quiet 'click' and he turned around with one eyebrow raised._

" _Ron and Hermione left just now, together with Andromeda and Teddy," Harry informed him; his black hair sticking up wildly as if he had been hit multiple times by lightning._

" _Did they now?" Draco hummed, sticking his wand in his pocket. He cast a glance around their bedroom and nodded satisfied. All the boxes had been unpacked and everything was in its rightful place._

_Harry sidled up to him, running his hand lightly over Draco's arm. "This is officially our house now," he said triumphantly; his eyes glittering excitedly. "We're living together now."_

" _I am aware of that, considering I've done nothing today but unpack boxes," Draco retorted dryly, but he couldn't help a smile from forming on his face, fuelled by the giddiness at finally sharing a house with his boyfriend._

_This house was_ theirs _now. Theirs to build their lives together in, the one where they would one day start a family perhaps. A place that was their own only, not shared with parents, and protected by wards even stronger than those around Malfoy Manor._

Theirs _. A word had never sounded more pleasing than that one at the moment._

" _I think we should celebrate this, us living together," Harry murmured, his eyes half lidded now; the corners of his mouth twisted up in that peculiar way that instantly had Draco stirring with interest._

" _And how would you celebrate this?" Draco asked innocently; his eyes lingering on reddened lips. He yelped in surprise when strong hands pushed him over and he landed on the bed, bouncing once, twice._

_He was just sitting up right when his lap was filled with a slender, warm body, pressing their groins together. Arms slipped around his neck, resting on his shoulders loosely and Harry started grinding his hips against his, lowering his head to breathe against Draco's mouth._

" _You, me, naked in this bed," he moaned and the sound shot straight into Draco's crotch and he shivered, hands clutching at Harry's hips._

" _Sometimes you really have the best ideas, Potter," Draco whispered and their lips met in a hungry, deep kiss as their hands pulled and tugged at their clothes until the items flew through the air and landed Merlin knew where in the room._

_Draco didn't care about them, though. All he cared about was naked, warm, and currently intent on sucking his brain out. His shout was swallowed against bruised, swollen lips and then he was preparing Harry, his turn to drive the man crazy, before entering him smoothly, Harry's groan vibrating against his ear._

_They had done it many times before, in various positions, but Draco thought he would never get tired of him, of this man he was madly in love with, with whom he was now living together._

_With whom he would be building a family one day._

_XXX_

" _We don't know yet how he will react to the potions. Unfortunately there is a fifty-five percent chance he'll react badly to them and his condition will worsen. When that happens ..."_

_Draco had shut himself off from the conversation at that point. Let Granger listen to the Healer rambling about how they couldn't do shit for Harry._

_Heart pounding in his chest, feeling so sick he could throw up any second now, he burst into the room, staring at the lonely bed, surrounded by nothing but white._

_He had received the Patronus half an hour ago; Weasley's dog Patronus shakily informing him that the mission had gone horribly wrong and Harry had been brutally attacked by a Manticore._

_On unsteady legs Draco approached the bed, flashing hot and cold, as he took in the damage. Harry's entire torso was swaddled into thick, white bandages; the cloyingly sweet and sour scent of the Healing Potions slathered on his skin lingering in the air like fumes. The Manticore had slashed him heavily, the cut so deep his intestines had been on the verge of falling out. His arms bore similar bandages from both bite and claw marks. Some cuts gleamed red on his cheeks and forehead._

_The damage of the Manticore's claws had been bad enough - bad, but easily treatable. But in his haste to push Weasley out of the way, his shoulder had been grazed by the Manticore's tail. The fact that it had grazed him was both a blessing and a curse: a full on sting would have meant instant death, but a fraction of the poison had still managed to enter the man's bloodstream._

_The Healers had pumped him full of antidotes and Healing Potions, but now it was all a matter of waiting. Either Harry survived or he didn't._

_Knees abruptly giving out, Draco fell down on the hard chair next to the bed, not even registering how uncomfortable it felt. All his attention was focused on the sickly pale man in the bed, the man he had been together with for more than a year already._

_The man who held his heart and could shatter it any moment now._

_He enfolded Harry's closest hand between his, registering how awfully cold it felt against his warm skin. He swallowed a lump down his throat and fixed his gaze on Harry's face, feeling like he would go mad if he looked at his chest any longer._

_So many bandages and still the blood was slowly seeping through ..._

" _You can't die, you hear me?" he whispered heatedly, paying no attention to the hot tears tracking fiery paths down his cheeks. "You can't. You're not allowed to die, I won't let you!"_

_Closing his eyes he pressed Harry's limp, cold hand against his forehead, willing it to move, for the fingers to unfurl and curl around his own. Wishing desperately for forest green eyes to open and a teasing voice to taunt him for crying when hey, it wasn't even that bad!_

_But Harry's hand remained cold and limp, his chest barely moving._

" _I swear to Merlin, Potter, I will drag you back from hell if I have to and I will kick your arse for daring to leave me behind!" Draco swore, squeezing Harry's hand tightly. "You can't - you can't leave me, okay? You fucking survived the Dark Lord, you can't let some measly cat defeat you now, okay? That's not ... You're Harry Potter."_

_Harry remained quiet, not even stirring a little bit._

_His voice broke when he continued, his vision going blurry with tears, "You bloody prat, you can't die! I haven't even told you I love you yet! I love you, you reckless idiot!"_

" _So it takes - fighting off a Manticore to get a Malfoy to be open about his feelings. Good to know."_

_Draco's head shot up and he stared in shock at Harry, whose eyes were opening slowly. The man continued in a rough voice, interlaced with coughing, "Can I hear it next time without - without fighting a Manticore, though? I like my intestines where they are."_

" _You fucking idiot!" Draco hissed, but his kiss was desperate, hungry, and yet still careful, not wanting to aggravate Harry's injuries._

_He was awake. He was awake. Awake and talking. The thought kept bouncing through his relieved mind; his heart doing all kinds of summersaults in his chest. He startled when cold fingers brushed against his cheek and they shone wet when pulled back._

" _You're not getting rid of me that easily, Malfoy," Harry quipped tiredly; his hand dropping back down on the bed._

" _I'm holding you to that," Draco promised and sniffled, gazing into exhausted, green eyes. "I love you," he murmured._

_A smile and a weak squeeze in his hand. "I love you too."_

_XXX_

_Harry started laughing and before Draco could rise up and storm away offended, a little, dark green box was pulled out of Harry's pocket._

_His lover opened the box, revealing a golden ring with a single emerald stone. "Looks like we were both thinking the same thing. Only this time you were quicker."_

" _So that's a yes?" Draco smirked, but his heart skipped a beat when Harry nodded and grinned._

" _That's definitely a yes! Yes, I want to marry you!" Harry laughed and then they were kissing, stumbling onto the couch and when Draco studied both their fingers later that night, both wearing each other's ring, he knew._

_This was right. This was everything._

_XXX_

_Their first fight as a couple. The both of them storming away before they met up a couple of hours later and made peace in bed._

_Colouring together with Teddy while Harry was preparing dinner._

_Introducing Harry officially to his parents and feeling infinitely pleased when mother immediately closed him in her arms._

_Watching tenderly how the love of his life was laughing and talking with his mother._

_Discovering Harry was pregnant. The joy, the anticipation, the love for the tiny being in his fiancé's belly growing with each day that passed. Discussing names and colour schemes for the nursery._

_Cuddling on the couch. Sharing breakfast in bed._

_Racing each other on their brooms. Travelling to Paris to celebrate their one year anniversary._

_Taking care of Harry's injuries when the man managed to yet again get hurt on his missions._

_Sneaking kisses. Late night talking right before going to sleep._

_The immense love and desire he felt for the other man filling him to the brim._

_Realising Harry was it for him._

_Knowing he was everything._

* * *

Draco stared numbly at the floor as more and more memories filled his head, returning to their rightful place.

He remembered all the things he did with Harry; a gap, which he hadn't realised existed, filling up quickly with the deep love he felt for the dark haired man, slotting that one missing piece into place.

Realising how badly he had fucked up.

A choked sound escaped him at the realisation. He had thought he had known pain but this. _This_ was much worse. Remembering all the vile words he had spat at Harry, the way he had kept pushing him away, not giving him any chance ...

Knowing that his son had been born, but he didn't even know how he looked like, what his name was. The son he had been looking forward to, who he had loved from the moment he knew Harry was pregnant ...

He had nothing anymore. He had lost everything that had made his life rich.

And it was all his fault. How could he have done this? How could he have hurt Harry like that?

How could he have hurt the man he was in love with?

How could he have done this?

There was a loud commotion nearby, the door suddenly slamming open and then there was shouting and screaming and spells being fired off.

Draco didn't care. He wanted everything to just end. After what he had done to Harry, the way he had hurt him and belittled him ... He didn't deserve him or their son.

They had been right: he was nothing but scum. How could he have done this to the man he loved?

There was suddenly someone in front of him, cursing and casting spells at the shackles and then he was lowered down and he wanted to close his eyes and just ...

_Forget._

But then arms wrapped around him, a choked voice calling out his name, and he raised his eyes with the last of the strength he had left.

And he met pained, deep green eyes.

He broke.

"Sorry, so sorry. I'm so sorry," he cried, knowing he wouldn't be forgiven. Not for this.

"I've got you. I've got you, I promise." A warm hand cupped his cheek carefully and Draco turned his head towards it, selfishly wanting to feel his touch one last time.

Just one last time before he ...

And then nothing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: Sooooo ... Did it meet your expectations? Some of the things in this chapter will be addressed with more nuances in the next chapter.
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> I see you all in the next chapter, which will be posted on the 17th of November!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: So this story was supposed to be finished with this chapter. However, I realised that if I wrote until everything was written then I wouldn't be able to post this story on time. Considering I've already written quite a long chapter, I've decided to post this now. The actual end of the story will be posted in the next chapter, so this story will definitely be finished with the next chapter.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and the comments!
> 
> Warnings: hm, angst I suppose; small time skips
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> I hope you'll like it!

_Chapter 14_

He was drifting in and out of the blackness; his ears picking up snippets of sounds.

"... lost a lot of blood."

"How many bones did they ..."

"... shattered, so we should ..."

" ... Blood Replenishing Potions now!"

"He's not reacting, what ..."

" ... collapsed lung, so ..."

"Maybe we should ..."

His body was jolted when hands grabbed him and fiery pain seized him, burning through every cell.

He blacked out, welcoming the soothing sensation of nothingness.

* * *

There was a hand resting on his; the warmth and weight of it registering faintly. Someone was talking to him, but he couldn't make out the words. It was a stream of sounds, washing over him like a wave.

He wanted to react, wanted to move his fingers, open his mouth, let the other one know he was still there. But nothing happened.

Instead he slipped away once more, the darkness enticing him back, and for one brief moment he panicked this would be the last time he would be semi awake. He didn't want to die, didn't want to leave, didn't want ...

Nothing.

* * *

_Darkness_. Drifting around aimlessly. Pain long forgotten. Memories started fading away slowly, unravelling like threads, never to be seen again.

He would turn into nothing soon. Maybe that wasn't such a bad idea. The darkness would embrace him, swallow him up, and then he wouldn't feel anything anymore.

No pain, no loss, no heartbreak ...

He continued drifting.

* * *

"For now, try to rest as much as possible. A Mediwitch will give you a Pain Soothing Potion in two hours again," the Healer said and after a brief nod, the greying wizard left the room.

Stone grey eyes, set deeply in his eye sockets, slipped away from the door and came to rest on bandage covered hands. His hands were completely swaddled in white bandages, not allowing any sort of movement of his fingers. The bandages were also wrapped around his arms, his chest, his stomach, his legs ...

Only his face remained relatively free of the sterile, white cloth.

He reeked of various potions; their combined smells hanging like a cloud of stench around him. There was green-yellowish paste covering the cuts on his face, arms and legs; a bluish cream rubbed into his multitude of bruises. Thick, grainy, dark purple pap was slathered across his large, open wounds, protected from the air through thick bandages. The pap was meant to disinfect and encourage the growing of his cells, so that he wouldn't keep bleeding out.

He had been given Blood Replenishing Potions; Bone Regrowth Draughts; Muscle Relaxers; Pain Relief Potions; a Reversion Draught, meant to undo the damage the Cruciatus Curse had inflicted upon him ...

Even with all the potions being given at different hours, there was still that sensation of slight wooziness and if he turned his head too quickly, the whole room would start spinning around.

He would be bedbound for an indefinite period of time while his magic and the potions tried to undo the damage of the torture. The Healer hadn't been able to tell him yet whether he would have scars or not.

Today was the first time he had woken up since they had grabbed him. He had been in a coma for a week; his body trying to heal most of the damage before he would regain consciousness.

He hadn't expected to wake up again.

He knew his injuries had been quite extensive - extensive enough to die from them and honestly? He wouldn't have minded.

Not after regaining his memories and realising just how badly he had hurt Harry, how he had fucked up.

"You're awake."

Grey eyes opened and Draco raised his head carefully. "I am," he murmured, watching wearily how Weasley entered the room completely, dressed in the dark red Auror robes. No other Auror followed him.

Weasley took a seat on Draco's left; his face looking both grim and exhausted at the same time. "We caught everyone. None of the 'Band of the Rising Phoenix' escaped," he informed the blond with a rather impressive sneer.

"Where are they now?" Draco asked; his voice rusty from disuse. Drinking water had helped a bit, but it would probably be a couple of more days before his throat would stop feeling like he had swallowed needles.

"In holding cells at the Ministry," Weasley replied; his eyes darkening for a moment. "The Wizengamot is trying to figure out how they will organise the trial."

"Let me guess: they're not in a hurry considering who the victims are?" Draco smiled sardonically and turned his head briefly to cough. When he looked back at the ginger haired man, the Auror was grimacing.

"Sounds about right, yeah," he said grimly. Belatedly he added, "How are you feeling?"

"I've had better days," Draco admitted wryly, folding his bandaged hands on top of each other on his lap.

Weasley winced. "Yeah, I can imagine that," he muttered and looked away for a few seconds, running a hand through his hair. He released a sigh and turned around again to face the blond man. "Considering we were literally there, it shouldn't be necessary, but they'll be on my case if I don't do this according to the rules. I need you to give me your testimony about what happened to you after you left the manor."

Draco thought about refusing, stating he would give it on another day, but really, what would it matter? Whether he gave his testimony today or later this week, nothing would change.

It had happened and he would just have to deal with it.

So he opened his mouth and the words came out haltingly, his mind flashing back to Knockturn Alley, to being knocked out and waking up in a strange room. His fingers wanted to twitch when he started talking about the torture, but they were swaddled so tightly, he might as well have been hit with a local Body-Bind Curse. He stared down at the blankets covering him up to his stomach, recounting every curse, every hex and spell he could remember them using. Maybe he had forgotten some; it wasn't as if he had been fully conscious by the time they deemed the torture over.

And then - the memories. Getting them back.

The quill stopped writing almost as soon as Draco closed his mouth; the sudden silence ringing loudly. There was some noise in the hallway; Healers and Mediwitches and Mediwizards bustling around, taking care of other patients on this floor. A burst of laughter could be heard somewhere down the corridor and then a door slamming shut. The sheets of parchment, on which his testimony was written down, crinkled as they were gathered.

Weasley cleared his throat, appearing a tad uncomfortable when he inquired, "So you have all your memories back?"

"All of them, yes," Draco confirmed flatly; trying to ignore the painful squeeze his heart gave.

"Right." Weasley nodded uneasily and cleared his throat again; the sharp noise grating on Draco's ears.

"How did - how did you find me?" Draco asked after a moment of hesitation. That question had been floating around in his mind for a while. He had told nobody that he had gone to Knockturn Alley and had even used a spell to ensure his absence wouldn't be noticed for a couple of hours. How could they have found him that quickly?

Weasley blinked, leaning back in the chair. "Your mother wanted to speak to you, but you didn't reply. Eric figured you had fallen asleep, but when you didn't answer their knocking, they opened the door and noticed you were gone. Ally picked up what kind of spell you had used - a clever one by the way. Eric is one of the best when it comes to reading magical signatures and your spell had fooled him."

Draco couldn't even find it in him to be proud of that accomplishment.

"Anyway, as soon as they realised you were gone, they alerted the office."

"But you didn't know where I had gone to," Draco pointed out, frowning. He paid no attention to the way the skin on his forehead was pulled tight with the action. "I don't think I was there for several days either, right?"

"Around seven hours before we found you," Weasley replied neutral. He sighed and tapped his quill on the arm of the chair. "There was a Tracking Charm on you. The second we've figured out you were gone, we used that charm to locate you."

A Tracking Charm? How had he not noticed the presence of that one on his body? "Who cast the charm on me?" he asked bemused, wondering whether it had been one of his bodyguards. They certainly had spent ample time with him these past two months.

Weasley pursed his lips together and narrowed his eyes slightly, looking as if he was debating with himself.

A spike of impatience shot through Draco. "Weasley, who put the charm on me?" he repeated his question, faintly annoyed.

"Harry did."

His breath caught and for a moment no sound left his throat. He swallowed with some difficulty and asked, "When - when did he do that?"

"The last time you saw each other. During the attack in Diagon Alley," Weasley murmured, studying the blond wizard intently.

Despite everything Draco had done and said, Harry had still thought about his safety and had used a Tracking Charm on him? A year before, he would have been annoyed, even angry, at having his privacy invaded as such. He wasn't a small child anymore who needed to be Tracked and kept under close watch. But it was thanks to the charm that they had found him before they could deliver the final blow. Without that charm ...

He probably would have ended up on Harry's doorstep, just like the other victims.

He looked away, shame and guilt colouring his voice when he inquired, "How is - how is he?"

"He's ... fine. Still resting. Got a month left before he comes back to work." It was to his credit that he didn't sound gloating or attempted to attack Draco for acting like a major twat towards his best friend.

"But - he was there. In the room. When you found me," Draco spoke haltingly. For the first time he questioned whether he hadn't just imagined Harry being there. He was on leave until the end of February and had a baby to take care of - there was no reason for him to have been there when they found Draco. He wouldn't have been at the office when the Aurors were alerted.

Had the torture addled his brain so much that he had imagined Harry rescuing him?

"He was there, yes. I had Floo called him so that he could activate the Tracking Charm and he insisted on coming with us." The look on Weasley's face showed clearly what he thought of that particular insistence.

"Oh," Draco uttered stumped. Why would Harry have insisted on that after all he had done? Then another thought shot through his mind and he whipped his head around to face Weasley, hissing softly when a bolt of pain spiked through his neck. "But what about - "

"Your parents babysat him," Weasley replied, knowing who Draco was referring to immediately.

Which was good, because guilt flared up once more when he realised that he _didn't even know his son's name_. How much of an arsehole could someone be when they even refused to know their child's name? How could he have ever acted like that?

"Harry wouldn't have left you to die. Not on his watch," Weasley murmured, picking at a thread on his right sleeve.

Draco laughed humourlessly and his chest protested. Wincing he rubbed over his chest and uttered through a wheeze, "Maybe he should have."

"I'm not going to say that you shouldn't feel guilty, because you should, after acting like an arse for months," Weasley stated frankly. "But it wasn't completely your fault either. If blame is thrown around, the curse - and by extension that group - should get most of the blame."

Draco shook his head, ignoring how his entire body protested. "Not really. I could have fought the curse, I could have tried harder to resist, but I didn't and - "

"Do you know how the curse operates, Malfoy?" Weasley cut him off, leaning forwards with his hands clasped together. The quill and the parchment was discarded on the nightstand.

"They said it mostly fed on the aversity of the cursed combined with the love," Draco muttered, crossing his arms even though his muscles ached.

"Not completely true." The older man shook his head. "We asked our Curse Specialist about it. It actually feeds on the love the cursed one feels. Aversity is only a small component that's used by the curse."

"What are you saying, Weasley?" Draco furrowed his eyebrows. In the back of his mind, he couldn't help but notice that this was the first time they had a long decent conversation without it resulting into shouting or insults.

"The Specialist explained that the stronger the love, the more the curse feeds on it. Basically, the fiercer you love, the harder the curse will be able to strike," Weasley explained softly, regarding him with some pity. "Because they took all your good memories of Harry away, leaving only the ones with your school rivalry behind, the curse could fester as much as it wanted. It could use both your love for him and the bad memories you have. It's why you were affected so badly compared to some of the others."

Grey eyes stared at the sheets as his mind tried to comprehend what he had just been told. So the curse had managed to succeed precisely _because_ he loved Harry?

It didn't make him feel better. If anything, it made him feel worse. He should have tried harder to fight against the curse's influence, should have attempted to get to know Harry instead of pushing him away.

If he had, maybe he would still have Harry then and he wouldn't have missed his son's birth or his first cry or even his first smile. Maybe he wouldn't have to wonder now what the name of his own son was and whether or not he would be able to meet him and see him grow up.

"Neither of us suspected they had used another curse on you aside from stealing your memories," Weasley continued and he sounded frustrated. "The Specialist told us that this curse is developed to remain hidden unless you know what to search for, but we should have realised something was wrong! Harry kept saying something wasn't right, but we just couldn't figure out what!" Agitatedly he ran his hand through his hair, causing some strands to stick up ridiculously.

"How could you have figured it out when I was doing my best to avoid you all?" Draco remarked flatly. He let the pillows behind him catch more of his weight, alleviating the strain on his muscles.

Weasley opened his mouth - whether to protest or say something else, Draco didn't know - at the same moment a knock sounded on the door.

Was it already time for the next potion? Carefully he turned his head in the direction of the door and called out, "Yes?"

Immediately the door swung open, revealing mother with her face drawn; her mouth pinched. As soon as her eyes fell on Draco, her face brightened, losing the traces of stress. She hurried towards him, closely followed by father. The only sign that he was relieved to see his only son awake was the way his fingers relaxed almost imperceptibly around his cane.

"I'll, eh, I'll give you some privacy," Weasley muttered and practically scuttled out of the room, avoiding Lucius' gaze.

Mother pressed a careful kiss on his forehead and gripped his left hand as she sank down on the chair Weasley had abandoned just now. "I'm glad to see you're finally awake, my dragon," she murmured.

"The Healers weren't much of a help when it came to telling us when you would wake up," Father sneered, coming to a halt at the foot end of the bed.

Their concern for him, even after the way he had acted for the past months, hit him out of nowhere suddenly and before he could stop them, tears sprung up and left a fiery trail down his cheeks.

"I'm sorry," he brought out; a lump blocking his throat. "I'm sorry for how - for how I've been."

"The Aurors told us what kind of curse they put on you," Mother said softly; her own eyes glistening in a peculiar way. "We wish we would have realised sooner that something else was going on aside from the memory loss."

Draco shook his head, feeling dizzy, but not caring, and shuddered. "Not your fault. I should have fought harder against it, instead of - "

"Son, it's all right," Father interrupted him. He looked pale, his eyes hard, but there was no judgement in them.

That only caused the guilt Draco felt to grow even bigger and he drew his shoulders up, even though that only caused his entire back to scream in protest.

"You're our son, Draco. We're always going to love you, no matter what happens," Mother said firmly and stood up, leaning forwards to embrace him, enveloping him in her soothing scent.

At once he was transported back to the night he had accepted the Dark Mark; his mother looking pale, angry and worried at the same time. After berating him for making such a stupid decision, she had pulled him in her arms and hugged him fiercely, promising everything would be all right and that no matter what he did, she would always love him.

He wrapped his arms around her as best as he could, not caring that he was probably extending the time he would have to stay in bed because he kept exhausting himself, and hugged her back as tightly as his body allowed. Hiding his face against her shoulder made him feel like a child again when he had had a nightmare and needed mother to reassure him that nothing bad was going to happen.

She wouldn't be able to chase away the nightmares this time, but that didn't stop him from soaking in her comfort - whether he deserved it or not.

"We're here," she whispered and there was the solid weight of father resting his hand on Draco's right leg.

Draco closed his eyes, trembling slightly.

For today, for now, he would let himself believe everything would be okay.

Here, surrounded by the love of his parents.

* * *

He was discharged on the twenty-eight of February; his injuries deemed healed enough that he wouldn't collapse the moment he went home.

The only visitors during his time at the hospital had been his parents and Weasley. His mother had visited him every day; father accompanying her every three days. Weasley's visits had been kept to three in the whole month Draco had been there. His visits had been short, mainly to confirm something one of the attackers had mentioned and to inform Draco there was a guard outside the room day and night just in case anyone got ideas.

He never mentioned Harry nor the baby.

During Weasley's third visit a week before Draco was released, he asked the Auror a question which had been brewing in the back of his mind for a while.

"Did you ever find any links between Astoria and the group?" Draco inquired, idly poking the jelly like substance on his plate. His fingers were finally freed from the bandages and he could finally move them around once more. They still felt rather stiff, but the Healer had assured him that would disappear soon the more he moved them.

Weasley appeared taken aback. He had been on the verge of leaving when the question had escaped the blond's mouth. "No, we haven't," he answered eventually. "At least not any substantial evidence that would prove her involvement without a doubt." He peered at Draco. "Why?"

"I wondered why she hasn't shown up yet. I sent her a letter, but her sister replied, stating Astoria had left for some kind of conference somewhere in Europe," Draco replied, pushing the plate away with a grimace. It was as if the hospital wasn't even trying anymore with their food.

Instantly Weasley became alert, like a Manticore which had caught the scent of its victim. "You think she has something to do with this?" he asked tensed.

Draco shrugged. "I don't know. I just think it's peculiar she hasn't shown up yet, for someone who agreed to being courted," he answered idly.

A stilted pause fell in the room.

"Do you want to see her?" Weasley questioned carefully; his hands hidden in his pockets.

"No. Any interest I had disappeared along with the curse," Draco said, lying back down. A Curse Specialist of the Ministry, one Mary Gold, had examined him a week ago and had declared all traces of the curse gone.

He should feel relieved, but he just felt empty.

"Do you think the curse had something to do with your interest in her?" Weasley asked intrigued, leaning forwards a bit.

"I don't know," the blond wizard replied wearily. "I only know that I have absolutely no interest in her now."

Which came too late, he knew. The damage had already been done. Not for the first time he asked himself why on earth he had ever thought it had been a good idea to start courting Astoria again. He had ended the first courtship for a very good reason after all.

Weasley hummed thoughtfully and then narrowed his eyes and nodded sharply. "Thanks, Malfoy. I'll see if we can track her down." He strode out of the room, letting the door fall shut behind him.

Maybe Astoria had something to do with his attack after all, maybe she didn't. He couldn't find it in him to care about her. If she did have something to do with it and she came near him again, well ... He had been helpless against the Band of the Rising Phoenix, but he wouldn't be helpless against her.

He closed his eyes and pulled the sheets higher over his chest, allowing the Sleeping Draught he had taken right before Weasley visited him to do its work.

Hoping it would make him forget for a least a while the ache inside of him that grew with each day that passed without _him_ coming for a visit.

* * *

For a week after he had returned to the manor, he debated whether or not he should reach out. He desperately wanted to talk to him, to get the chance to apologise and try to make things right again.

To finally see his son.

He realised he had given up every right he had to see him or their son after the way he had acted for months, but he had always been selfish. He wanted nothing more than to return to the time when everything had still been okay and the worst fight they had was whether or not they would continue the Malfoy tradition of giving their children names of Greek origin.

He knew they couldn't go back to that time. Too much had happened between them; things that weren't easy to forget nor forgive.

It was just ...

He missed him. He longed to see him again, to talk with him, to touch him ... He wanted to see those beautiful, deep green eyes again, hear that warm laugh. He wanted to hold his son for the first time, take in how he looked like, get to know him.

He feared he would never get to have all that again, but ...

He needed to try.

His breath left him in a measured exhale as he leant back in his chair and reread what he had written down after a painstaking two hours of crossing words out and rewriting and editing sentences.

' _Dear Harry,_

_I know I do not have the right any longer to contact you after what I have said to you these past few months._

_I understand completely if you wish to never speak or listen to me ever again after what happened. I have always been rather selfish, however, as you surely remember, and I wish to have the chance to offer my apologies. To talk about what happened._

_Should you decide you do not want to contact me, I will respect your wishes._

_Please let me know if and where you want to talk._

~~_All my l_ ~~

_Draco'_

Draco cringed when he finished reading the letter and he barely resisted the urge to crumple it and set it on fire - as had been the fate of the previous attempts. The letter sounded awfully standoffish and much too polite for the relation they shared, but how else could he write it? Too familiar and he would give off the impression that he didn't care about the things he had said and done. Not to mention he no longer had the right to act familiar.

"Damn it," he sighed, rubbing his hands over his face.

He didn't even know whether it was appropriate to put 'dear' as the greeting, but just Harry's name had sounded so cold. Writing a letter had never been so difficult before.

After waffling for a moment longer, he folded the letter and stood up. He could keep rewriting the letter, but in the end all that would accomplish was putting off the possible confrontation. He strode out of his room and made his way to the small room in the east wing, which served as their personal owlery. After descending and ascended a few staircases, passing various house elves in the middle of their tasks, he pushed open the wooden door of the owlery and was instantly created by a cacophony of hooting and chirping.

Through the mass of feathers, Draco spotted his eagle owl, whose head turned when he picked up his owner's footsteps. He was sitting on his perch near a window, furthest located from the door.

"I need you to bring this letter to Harry, okay?" Draco said, tying the letter to the offered paw. His owl nipped him gently on his finger and spread his wings, flying away as soon as Draco opened the window.

Either Harry would answer or he would not. It was out of his hands now.

Taking a deep breath, he left the owlery and walked all the way back. Instead of going to his room, however, he descended the last few staircases, ending in the grand hallway. He passed mother on his way to the foyer, who halted; her sea green robes rustling faintly.

"Are you going somewhere, Draco?" she asked curiously; the weak sunlight streaming through the window on the landing making her hair glisten like gold.

He offered her a terse smile. "I'm going to see whether I've burnt all my bridges with my friends," he admitted; his stomach flipping upside down at the thought of confronting Blaise and Pansy after so long.

They hadn't visited him at the hospital, but then, he hadn't expected them to. They had been more than clear about what they thought of him the last time he saw them.

Mother offered no consolations in the form of "Everything will be all right." which he appreciated. Instead she kissed his cheek and wrapped her fingers around his right wrist for a moment before she walked upstairs.

It was when he was standing in front of the fireplace, a pinch of Floo powder between his fingers, that realisation dawned upon him that Blaise and Pansy might have blocked their Floo for him after their last confrontation.

With a swear he threw the powder back into the jar and marched out of the foyer, into the hallway, through the front door and down the long road to the gates. As soon as he was past the wards, he Apparated, appearing right in front of Pansy's home.

Ever since Pansy had bought a house for herself, it had become a tradition for the three of them to meet up every Thursday unless work prevented them. If Blaise wasn't out of the country now for his work, he should be here today.

For a moment he stood there, wondering what the hell he was doing here. Would they give him a chance to talk and apologise to them? Would it perhaps be better to just leave things be and return home?

But no. The curse had been intent on isolating him, turning even his best friends against him, and he knew that a large part of that was his own fault. He also knew that if he left now, he would forever wonder whether their friendship still had been salvageable if he had just had the balls to take the first step.

Well, he had been a coward before, but he was done being one now. After today he would know whether he could still have the right to call them his friends. It was all in his hands now.

Taking a deep breath to steady himself, praying he wouldn't throw up, he raised his fist and knocked on the door.

* * *

"You have something to say?" Pansy asked coolly, waving him inside.

One of her house elves had let him inside, announcing his arrival afterwards. The elf must have received the okay, because it had guided him to Pansy's living room, where she and Blaise were sharing the comfortable couch; each holding a glass of Firewhiskey.

"I have," Draco agreed and swallowed; the warmth of the room prickling his skin. He slipped his wand out of his pocket and at once Blaise and Pansy tensed up, their hands landing on their own wands. Before they could utter a spell, he placed his wand on the table and took a step aside, putting distance between the magical tool and him.

"What are you doing, Draco?" Blaise questioned warily; his dark eyes shooting back and forth between the wand and the blond wizard.

"I came to apologise. I've been acting like an absolute git for the past few months," Draco began; his hands started to feel clammy and he shoved them inside his pockets. "You have every right to be angry at me."

"Damn right we do," Pansy growled, narrowing her eyes.

"I should have listened to what you had to say, but I didn't. Nothing excuses my behaviour, but I want to say - I'm sorry. I'm sorry for acting like that. I'm sorry for not being the friend I was supposed to be." He took a shuddering breath, shaking his head and blinking rapidly, before he continued, "If you want to hex me, go ahead. I won't stop you. I just - I hope you can forgive me eventually and ... I hope I didn't completely screw up my chances of being friends with you again."

"Damn it, Draco," Pansy groaned, leaning her head back against the couch as she rubbed her fingers across her temples. "How am I supposed to stay pissed at you when you apologise like that? You sound so fucking sincere."

"Because I'm really sorry. I mean it, Pansy. I'm sorry for wanting to listen to you and for pushing you away," Draco said, hunching his shoulders slightly. The urge to flee and not face the potential rejection was growing with each second, but he forced himself to keep standing there. "You too, Blaise. I'm sorry for the things I said about - about you and Harry. I shouldn't have said that."

"No, you shouldn't have," Blaise agreed calmly, relaxing against the arm of the couch. He cocked his head to the right, studying the other man. "You're not referring to him as Potter anymore - finally come to your senses?"

"I - during the attack there was apparently another curse cast on me. The Cor Diverbero Curse. It - the curse is apparently meant to turn everyone against me eventually through my own behaviour." Draco shook his head and straightened his shoulders. "I'm not using it as an excuse. I shouldn't have said all those things and I'm here to apologise for them."

"Do you have your memories back?" Pansy asked, leaning forwards with narrowed eyes.

"I do."

Her eyes widened considerably, clearly not having expected the answer. "What? When? Did you just get them back like that?" She snapped her fingers.

He pressed his lips together; a shiver of fear dancing over his spine as he sank back into the dark memories of that day. He still had nightmares about it, expecting every time he woke up to find himself back into that room, being tortured again and again.

"Draco?" Pansy called out softly; her eyebrows furrowed.

He blinked and shook off the daze he had fallen in. "Sorry. I was ... The group who attacked me during the summer found me again a month ago. They - they gave me my memories back."

"Wait," Blaise said slowly; his face gaining that particular look he always did when he was on the verge of figuring something out. "Are you talking about the Band of the Rising Phoenix? The newspapers talked about them for a few weeks."

"Them, yes," Draco admitted, clenching his hands into fists. He hated them for what they had done to him, hated them for the fear they still managed to inspire in him despite being locked up.

_He hated them for taking his joy and love away._

Pansy clapped a hand over her mouth, looking at him with wide, upset eyes. "Oh, Draco," she breathed out; her eyes darting over his form.

Right away he knew she knew that he had been tortured. Judging by the dark look in Blaise's eyes he knew as well.

Draco cleared his throat. "I, eh, I've been in the hospital for a month to recover, but I'm fine now." Well, aside from the nightmares, a couple of scars on his stomach and back and the way his muscles still ached sometimes. He was much better off than before, though. He was lucky to be still alive.

"I came here to say sorry to you and to ask for your forgiveness. The offer to hex me still stands." He risked a weak smile, though his stomach rolled and flipped; nausea slumbering.

Blaise shook his head, rubbing his forehead. "You weren't the only one at fault, Draco," he sighed, looking up at the blond man. "We didn't deal well with the fact that you had lost your memories. We shouldn't have pushed you that much to talk with Harry. It's just ... We knew how happy you were with him and we didn't want you to lose that. But we should have been more understanding. For that I'm sorry."

"Granted, you were still a major arse," Pansy piped up, tapping her pink painted nails against her glass. "And the offer to hex you is very tempting, I promise, especially after the shit you pulled with Greengrass, but ... Blaise is right," she conceded begrudgingly. "We were - we were pushing you too much, given the circumstances. We should have given you more time to get used to everything again instead of expecting you to just accept everything. I'm sorry too." The last words were nearly inaudible and she looked away uncomfortably.

If possible, she had a lot more trouble apologising to someone than Draco had; she had granted him something not many people got to hear.

"Do you think - can you forgive me?" Draco asked; his voice smaller than he would have liked. He was embarrassed, sounding like a child begging for approval, but he didn't know what he would do if he lost them as his friends as well.

Harry might be lost to him forever - would he lose Pansy and Blaise too?

Pansy suddenly rose up and shocked him by embracing him fiercely. "You're an idiot," she hissed; her hug so tight it seemed as if she was trying to crush his ribs. Then her embrace loosened and she relaxed against him. "We'll figure it out. We've weathered worse storms."

"We did," Blaise agreed easily.

Relief crashed over him like a huge wave and he hid his face in her dark hair, hugging her back.

Despite everything, he still had them. Maybe not everything was lost yet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: This chapter was a lot more difficult to write than expected. I mean, I knew what I wanted to write, but actually putting it in the right words on paper ... That was definitely more difficult than anticipated. The amount of rewriting I did ... I hope it doesn't come across as rushed :/
> 
> So I sincerely hope it isn't too bad! The next chapter will finally be the end of this story - this time I seriously mean it.
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> The final chapter will be posted on the first of December.
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Author's note: This chapter turned out to be quite longer than I anticipated ^^; I had to finish it today, so I hope it isn't too bad. This is the chapter I'm most insecure about, because I know a lot of you are eager to know how this will end. There were some mixed feelings about Draco and Harry, but I hope that how I wrote this chapter - and ended the story - makes sense. If not, I apologise ^^;
> 
> I want to take everyone of you who took the time to read, review and favourite this story. I never expected this story to reach more than 400 reviews, so thank you very much for that! Words can't express how happy I am with the response this story got :) It has been quite the journey, but I hope you'll enjoy this last chapter!
> 
> Thank you so much for all the kudos and the comments! I treasure each and every one of them!
> 
> Warnings: Angst; memories/flashbacks; some fluff; time skips
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter. J.K. Rowling owns it.
> 
> For the last time: I hope you'll like this chapter!

_Chapter 15_

On Sunday, a couple of days after he had sent the letter and had visited his friends, he didn't enter his lab after breakfast. He had picked up his brewing again right after he had come home; his month long absence had caused him to lose some contracts, but fortunately the majority of his clients was still willing to give him a chance.

Preparing potions also helped take off his mind from the fact that he hadn't heard anything of Harry yet.

_It's only been a couple of days_ , he told himself, as he swung his cloak around his shoulders. Rain was drizzling down, coating everything it touched in a wet sheen. _I need to give him some time._

He felt too restless to attempt brewing, though, and he was struck with a sudden need to go outside. Perhaps a walk would clear his mind a bit.

"If anyone asks, I'm out for a walk," he informed one of the house elves and the little being nodded, bowing before returning to his task of mopping the floor.

He pulled up his hood once he set foot outside, letting the big door swing shut behind him. There were some birds chirping in the distance and leaves rustled as the wind played with them. He inhaled deeply, letting the fresh air, tinged with the scent of rain, fill his lungs. He made his way down the path, past the gate and then stood still, asking himself where he would go to.

To the village? No, he didn't want to encounter someone now. That automatically ruled out Diagon Alley and its surrounding streets as well. Where should he go? Just wander aimlessly around? He could do that now, he realised. The threat was gone; nobody of the group had managed to escape. He had his freedom back, so what was he going to do with it?

The answer was surprisingly easy to find.

He closed his eyes and Apparated, ignoring the queasy sensation this travel method always brought with it. When grey eyes opened again, they stared at rubble.

Draco swallowed, standing uneasily in front of what had been his home with Harry. The house they had been so proud of when they bought it; the house they had sworn to turn into a home. The place where they had been planning to raise their child.

Now there was nothing left but ruins.

Clearly nobody had been here to remove the shattered stones. The place looked exactly like Draco had left it behind, minus the pillars of dark smoke. There was no tingling of the wards to greet him when he took a hesitating step forwards. No magic to greet him and envelop him in its protective, warm embrace.

Had anything of their possessions survived the blast? His eyes caught some small shards of wood and he wondered whether that wood had belonged to their furniture or the wooden frames around their pictures. Or maybe those were the last remaining parts of their wooden floor.

In a daze he wandered around; his mind recalling every room perfectly from his memories. Here had been the living room where Draco had teased Harry for buying those white, frilly throw pillows. Harry's defence had been that they looked nice on the couch; the rest of their argument had been swallowed up by kisses as they had made out on those stupid pillows.

He passed the remains of the hearth where they had put their most important pictures on. He thought he could still see glass glinting on the ground.

The kitchen, where Harry had done the majority of the cooking as Draco was pants at it. It had also been the place where they had discovered Harry was pregnant.

" _You ready?" Draco asked, uncorking the vial._

_Nervous green eyes met his gaze and the owner of them nodded, releasing his breath slowly as he made a small cut in his finger. Small gleaming beads of red welled up around the torn skin and the finger was held above the vial, allowing the blood to drip right into it. Seven drops later, the cut was healed with a quick spell and Draco put the cork back into the bottle. He shook it firmly, letting the blood mix thoroughly with the Detection Potion and watched with sharp eyes how the liquid lazily swirled around; the colours changing too quickly to put a name on them._

_He only became aware of how tense he had become when a hand landed on his wrist, squeezing it gently. Quickly he looked up, meeting Harry's soft smile._

" _We'll deal with whatever the result will be," Harry murmured soothingly, rubbing his thumb over his inner wrist._

" _Yeah, 'course," Draco muttered, but he couldn't help but feel incredibly nervous as they both watched how the changing of the colours slowed down._

_What if Harry wasn't pregnant? Would they try to have a baby on purpose this time, instead of being surprised by it? What if he was pregnant? That would certainly change a lot of things in their lives, but …_

_A part – larger than he dared to admit – hoped that the result would be positive. They had only just recently become engaged, so maybe it was a bit too soon to wish for a positive test, but he couldn't help himself. The thought of having a baby together with Harry, forming a family … It excited him._

" _Oh," Harry breathed out surprised when the potion finally settled upon one colour._

_A bright baby blue._

" _You're – you're pregnant," Draco brought out; shock making his voice sound smaller than he had intended._

" _Yeah, yeah, I am," the dark haired man said dazed and his grip around Draco's wrist tightened almost painfully. He licked his lips, uncertainty suddenly flickering across his face. "Are you – do you … want this?" he asked haltingly, worrying his lower lip between his teeth. As if they hadn't discussed all their options when suspicion had arisen that he could possibly be carrying a child. As if they hadn't made a decision based on whatever the result would turn out to be._

_The blond wizard placed the bottle on the kitchen table and gently thumbed the abused lip free. "I'm ready if you are," he said, pressing a gentle kiss on Harry's lips before he slid his arms around his waist._

_Around his stomach in which their child was slowly, but surely growing._

_Exhilarated laughter escaped his fiancé's mouth and hands landed on his shoulders before a mouth was kissing him fiercely. "We're going to be parents!" Harry whispered giddily; his emerald green eyes sparkling fiercer than the stars outside._

_Draco smiled, certain his own face was bright with excitement that he couldn't supress, and then they were kissing again, leaning against the table as they celebrated the news._

Some tree branches creaked; the sound pulling the blond man out of his memory and he shook his head, swallowing down the lump which was suddenly blocking his throat.

They had been so happy that day …

Slowly he walked into what had been their hallway and looked up. In his mind he envisioned the nursery which had been right above where he stood now. It had been the room right next to their bedroom and a week before the attack they had removed everything out of it to make way for the new furniture. They had been bickering about the colours on the walls, he remembered with a pang in his heart. He had wanted a soft white, which would fade into a light blue, while Harry had been adamant that both green and blue should be used.

If he concentrated, he could still feel the smooth wood of the powder blue crib underneath his hands. He had surprised Harry with it, having fallen in love with the design the minute he had laid eyes upon it. The dark haired man had been nearly fourteen weeks pregnant and he had just started to show when Draco had shown him the crib. He had been full of awe and had embraced Draco tightly; they both had ignored the couple of tears trailing down his cheeks.

" _You like it then?" Draco questioned, mostly teasing, but there was still a hint of uncertainty running as an undercurrent through his voice. He knew he should have spoken to Harry before buying the crib, but the second he had seen it, he just had to have it. It would be the perfect place for their baby to sleep in._

_Never mind that it would still take several months before the crib would have an inhabitant._

_Harry pulled back to look at him and laughed. "Like it? I love it! It's beautiful, thank you!" He carefully touched the white bow which hung near the foot end of the crib, stroking it gently. When he turned back to look at his fiancé, the soft look on his face made Draco's breath hitch. "I love you."_

" _I love you too," Draco smiled and their mouths met in a tender kiss._

When he opened his eyes again, he saw a grey sky where the ceiling should have been. There really was nothing left, huh? No furniture, no pictures, no trinkets …

Nothing had survived. Their home had been reduced to dust and shattered stones.

Why had he come here? There was clearly nothing left for him; everything had been obliterated during the blast. The pieces of brick and some shards of glass were the only evidence left that there had been once a home here.

The irony wasn't lost on him that the remains of their home closely resembled their relationship.

Clenching his jaw, he turned around, intent on going back to the manor. There was no point in lingering here; the memories this place would call up would only remind him of everything he had lost. He took a step forwards, wood crunching underneath his foot, and –

Something tingled; a shiver dancing across his spine. He whirled around, eyes widening at the unexpected touch of magic he suddenly felt. Where was it coming from? He remained motionless for a moment, attempting to figure out where the magical aura was coming from.

_There_. It appeared to come from –

Eyes shot open and he inhaled sharply, as he hurried towards what had once been the right outer wall of the house. Four rows of bricks still stood up, crumbling at the edges, looming over a gap which had led to the basement before. Carefully he took several steps down until the second row of stones was on eye level. Here, there was a particular spot humming softly with magic – his magic to be exact.

Heart beating quicker, he slipped his wand out of his pocket and carefully tapped it against the wall three times. A triangular shaped area glowed for a few seconds before the illusion of the wall melted away, revealing a small gap hidden behind it. There they were.

His hand shook when he slipped it inside the gap; his fingers curling around the cold metal. He pulled back and took a steadying breath before he unfurled his fingers and looked down. Two thin, golden rings glittered faintly in the palm of his hand.

_Their wedding rings._

A lump blocked his throat and he squeezed his eyes shut as hot tears threatened to spill over. Harry hadn't known about these rings. They were supposed to be a surprise; his Christmas gift for the dark haired man actually. He had intended to let them be engraved with something that had meaning for them both. The rings were simple, but elegant, and he had just known that Harry would have liked them.

Would they ever get to fulfil their purpose? He didn't dare to hope.

His fingers closed around them tightly and he felt them digging into the soft flesh of his palm. After a moment of hesitation, he slipped them into his pocket. Even if they would never adorn their fingers, they were still proof that they had been happy before.

He ascended the few steps, being careful not to trip over any of the stones scattered around. He cast one last look around him, remembering the joy, the laughter, the love, the arguments they had had here, and left.

There was nothing else left for him here.

* * *

He was woken up on Wednesday by a loud, insistent noise, as if something was hitting his window repeatedly. Sleep still clinging on to him, he blearily stumbled out of his warm bed and shuffled over to the window, rubbing over his eyes and hiding a yawn behind his hand. Drawing back his curtains, he blinked surprised when an owl stared back up at him from behind the glass.

Then his brain finally kicked into gear and he realised with a sharp intake of breath that he was staring at a sooty black coloured owl – Harry's owl.

He hurried to open the window, stepping back nervously as the owl hopped inside calmly, as if he hadn't been knocking stubbornly against the window. Draco's hands felt clammy all of a sudden and he swallowed, eyeing the letter nervously. Did he want to know what the letter said? What if it was just one to tell him to fuck off? But no, Harry wouldn't be like that – would he?

Only one way to find out.

With trembling hands he removed the letter from the bird's leg; the black owl shook out his wings and started preening them, unbothered by the anxiety radiating from the blond man. He studied the folded letter; it felt like a heavy weight in his hand as if it was filled with stones instead of merely words on parchment.

"Come on, stop stalling," he scolded himself underneath his breath and scowled. Quickly, before he had time to start wavering, he opened the letter, feeling like his heart would beat straight out of his chest.

' _Draco,_

_I have the day off today. If you want to talk, you can come over._

_The Floo address is Rose's Field._

_Harry'_

Draco breathed out slowly, reading the letter – more like a note, really – over and over again. There were no endearments in it, but he hadn't been really expecting them. The note was fairly neutral, not really as cold as he had feared. At the very least Harry was willing to give him a chance to talk.

They would get to talk today. After nearly three months of no real contact, he would see him, be near him again. Maybe – he swallowed, his fingers clenching tightly around the paper – maybe he would even get to _meet his son today_.

The letter fluttered on his desk as he whirled around and hurried to the bathroom in order to get ready.

Trying to ignore the million butterflies rampaging through his stomach.

* * *

Despite longing to see Harry as soon as possible, it still took him half an hour wavering in front of the fireplace to take a pinch of Floo powder between his fingers. It took him another ten minutes to convince himself that doing this wouldn't end horribly and throw the powder into the fire.

The flames instantly burned a bright green, crackling loudly as they waited for him to step inside the hearth and announce his destination.

"Come on," he muttered, clenching his hands. This was stupid; he was being ridiculous. This was what he wanted, no? A chance to talk to Harry, to figure out where they stood now.

Was he really going to lose out on that chance because he'd rather be a coward and avoid the confrontation?

With a growl, he stepped into the fireplace, calling out, "Rose's Field!"

The world started whirling around him, colours shifting and dancing, as he passed living rooms, bedrooms, attics, basements, offices, foyers … The flames licked merrily at his legs and his stomach was churning and he hoped to Merlin he wouldn't throw up the second he stood in Harry's house. The fire started slowing down and on instinct he took a step forwards, setting foot on black tiles. His breathing was loud in the small room, the roar of the fire dying out until a nearly inaudible crackle, and he looked around carefully, taking note of what he saw.

There was one round window, looking out on a deserted street. The walls and ceiling were a simple beige colour; against the right wall, there stood a chair and a small, round table with a jar of Floo powder placed on it. The door was open, giving him a view of the hallway, of which the wall was panelled with wood from the middle to the floor.

A shadow fell across the floor and Draco stiffened, holding his breath unconsciously as Harry appeared silently in the doorway. There were light bags underneath his eyes – their baby not sleeping well? – but otherwise he appeared fine. His eyes were dark with wariness, though, as he studied the blond man quietly.

"Hello, Draco," Harry greeted him softly after a moment of tension filled silence.

Draco swallowed – the sound embarrassingly loud in the room – and licked his lips. "Harry," he murmured, hiding his hands in his pockets to prevent the other man from seeing the tremble in them.

Still, he had used his first name and not his last – that had to mean something, right?

Harry nodded to his left. "We can talk in the living room. Do you want something to drink? Coffee, tea, water, juice?" he rattled off and Draco realised the dark haired man was as nervous as he was.

"Tea's fine," he answered, already feeling jittery enough; adding coffee to the mix would just be a disaster.

"Okay." Harry beckoned him to follow and Draco did so, cautiously; the floorboard underneath their feet creaking softly.

They passed a closed door on their right and on their left, golden light was spilling out of another room across the floor. Harry halted in front of the closed door and pointed at the other room. "That's the living room; you can take a seat already. I'm going to make some tea."

Before Draco could form any sort of reply, the younger wizard had already disappeared into what Draco presumed to be the kitchen.

On unsteady legs – not that he would ever admit that – he walked into the living room; his eyes wandering around, taking in the comfortable looking dark blue couch; the armchair filled with several files; two bookcases lined up against the left wall, filled with pictures and books; the fire dancing merrily in the small fireplace and the long, blue drapes allowing a glimpse out of the window, showing grass and part of an oak tree.

After a bout of hesitation, he sank down on the couch; his weight settling into it comfortably. There was a table in front of him with some Quidditch magazines and the latest issue of the Quibbler thrown on top of it. And next to them was …

A light green pacifier and a white stuffed cat. His son wasn't in the room, however; he must be asleep somewhere upstairs.

His stomach twisted in knots, he listened to the vague noises coming from the kitchen. For a moment it was so easy to imagine that everything was as it should be and they were just going to enjoy a cup of tea together, sharing a couple of kisses in between. He could only cling to the hope that that vision would become reality once more in the future.

"Here." A steaming cup was placed in front of him on the table; the fragrance of something flowery and citrus like curling up in his nostrils.

"Thanks," he murmured, but didn't pick up the cup. His hands were still trembling slightly and he didn't need a burn on top of everything.

There was an awkward pause and then Harry sat down on the other end of the couch, cradling his own cup between his hands. He crossed his legs, tapping his foot restlessly against the floor.

"So, you wanted to talk?" Harry prompted him, worrying his lower lip between his teeth.

_This was it._

Draco took a deep breath and his heart started beating faster; his heartbeat so loud in his ears, he was sure the other wizard could hear it too. Twisting his hands together before he could do something as stupid as reach out and touch Harry – he didn't have that right, not yet, perhaps never again – he said haltingly, "I – I'm sorry. For everything. For – for the things I said and did. There's no excuse for how much I've hurt you and - …"

"You were under a curse, Draco," Harry murmured; his eyes dark. "It wasn't your - "

"I'm not going to use the curse as an excuse," Draco snapped, clenching his hands into fists. "Curse or not, I hurt you and I never should have done that. I've never wanted to hurt you. I'm sorry, H-Harry. I know it doesn't make up for the horrible things I said, but … I wish I could go back. Try to fight off the curse and …"

"Draco, this curse isn't like the Imperius one. None of us knew you were hit by it and - "

"Other people managed to get past it!" Draco burst out and looked away in shame, feeling his cheeks heat up. "They got past it, didn't they, so I should have – I should have …" He pressed his lips together, smothering the sound that sounded too akin to a sob for him to be comfortable with.

Yes, he knew how the curse worked, knew how it had used his love for Harry to turn him into someone horrible and vile. He also knew that other victims had been able to supress the curse before it could gain strength. _They_ had their partners back; they hadn't destroyed their relationship beyond possible repair.

Why couldn't he have done the same? Why hadn't he been able to fight off the curse? Was he still that weak, even after all those years?

"You and them are completely different cases," Harry remarked quietly. "You shouldn't compare yourself to them."

Draco couldn't stop a bitter chuckle from escaping. "Oh no? What the hell else am I supposed to do? We all got cursed the same way, but I'm the one who couldn't get past it!" he spat out, disgusted at himself.

"We have a history together that they didn't," Harry said, unperturbed by the bitterness which was practically hanging like a dark cloud around the blond wizard. "If anything, you suffered the worst because of that curse. And not everyone managed to get past it, Draco. I told you that some of them decided not to go back to their partners."

"I bet they didn't say the stuff I did," Draco said bitterly, glaring at the floor.

Harry shifted restlessly. "I don't know," he replied carefully. "We sent them an invitation to let themselves be examined and get rid of the curse. What they're going to do with that is up to them."

Draco shook his head; self-loathing filling him, settling heavy in his stomach. "I never should have acted like that. I could have kept my mouth shut, but instead I – I hurt you and said horrible things about – about our son." His voice broke and he swallowed past the lump in his throat. "I'm so sorry, Harry, you have to believe me. If I could turn back time, I would."

"Draco …"

"I ruined everything and I - "

"Draco! Stop apologising; it was their fault, the curse's fault. They're the ones to blame, not you!" Harry said sharply, cutting him off. His cup was placed on the table with a harsh 'tick', which echoed through the room.

"Then why didn't you visit me at the hospital?" The unbidden words escaped him in a small, hurt voice before he could think twice about them and he froze; every muscle in his body tensing up.

The question hung heavily in the air, choking them, and when Draco dared to look up and turn his head, Harry was gaping; his green eyes wide behind his glasses. He instantly regretted asking that question.

"Forget it; I understand why you didn't. You don't have to answer that," he said hurriedly; his nails digging in his flesh. Just like in Pansy's living room, the urge to flee was growing stronger with each second that passed and every muscle in his body tensed up, ready to jump up and leave.

"No, Draco, that's …" Harry shook his head, looking miserable all of a sudden. He glanced away, clapping his hands together on his lap. "I didn't visit you, because I was a bloody coward."

The admission stunned Draco enough that he remained silent, staring at the younger man bemused.

"I've suspected for a long time that something wasn't right, that there had to be more than just memory loss," Harry started, looking down at his hands. He balled them into fists for a few seconds before relaxing them. "I just couldn't figure out what. I was both relieved and angry at myself when we got to hear that there was an additional curse placed on you. Relieved, because it confirmed my suspicion that it hadn't been really you after all and angry because I didn't figure it out sooner."

Harry's words echoed those of Weasley's and Draco opened his mouth to tell him what he had told Weasley, but Harry bulldozered on, his gaze remaining fixed on his hands.

"I … I was scared to death when Ron told me they had caught you," Harry continued, his voice nearly inaudible.

Draco barely dared to breathe or move; staring wide eyed at the other man as a sliver of hope wormed its way into his chest.

"I was so relieved when we found you on time. I thought we would be too late and that thought …" He released a shuddering breath and shook his head. "I had planned to visit you in the hospital once you were awake, to talk, but when that moment came …" he trailed off and audibly swallowed.

A bout of silence passed between them. Harry seemed to be debating about something and Draco didn't dare to open his mouth, irrationally scared of what would happen if he did.

The dark haired man seemed to steel himself. He took a deep breath and twisted his body around, finally looking at Draco again. The look in those deep green eyes was so raw it almost made Draco want to look away. He couldn't, though; like hypnotised he gazed back, hope and fear warring inside of him.

"When Ron told me you had woken up, I wanted to see you, but … I couldn't. I didn't dare to." Harry pressed his eyes shut for a moment, balling his hands into fists again, before opening his eyes once more. Self-disgust, a look Draco had never expected to see, was reflected in them. "I knew the curse and the memory loss were responsible, but … All I could think of was what you had said and – and I was afraid that nothing had changed after all. That you would still …"

"Harry, no, I didn't - "

Harry held up his hand, effectively silencing Draco. "I know, Draco. Rationally I knew, but all I could think of were our arguments and – and you courting Greengrass again. I kept seeing those pictures in the newspaper and … I know it's stupid, but I started wondering whether we had been a mistake after all and you really did want a woman." He looked away ashamed; his cheeks down to his neck colouring a deep rose.

"That's not – I want you. No one else. No woman and no other man. Just you," Draco said, unable to hide the note of despair in his voice. There was no time or place for masks here. Only truth. "I've made several mistakes these past months, and going out with Astoria has to be one of the biggest ones I made. I don't know why I did it; I was an idiot. I know it doesn't erase anything I did and said, but I'm really sorry. Whatever you want me to do, I'll do it. I just – " he swallowed, feeling like his heart was in his throat now. _All or nothing now_. "I just want you. You and our son. I want _us_ back."

Harry turned his head; his eyes gleaming wet with a sheen of tears as he bit down on his lip.

"I've acted like a major arsehole this past months and if you can't forgive me, I'll understand," Draco said, voice wavering slightly. Harry opened his mouth, but this time Draco held up his hand and the other man closed his mouth again reluctantly. He needed to say this; he needed Harry to _know_. "I've hurt you a lot; you didn't deserve any of this. You might not believe me now, but I really, truly do love you. And I curse that group every single day for turning me into that and ruining what we had. I probably can't ever make up for the hurt I've caused you and I'm incredibly selfish, I know, but – do you think you could give me a second chance? To prove to you that I really do love you?"

"Draco …" Harry trailed off, looking conflicted.

"If – if you can't, I'll – I'll accept that," the blond man continued, even though it hurt him to say that. He didn't think he would ever accept not being given another chance, but he wouldn't even consider hurting Harry ever again by pushing him. The band, he, the curse – had done enough damage already. He swallowed, his mouth as dry as the desert. "I just – I know I don't deserve him, but could I – could I still help raise our son?"

His chest clenched tightly together, making it harder to breathe as he awaited Harry's reply. He didn't want to lose Harry, but losing his son too – the son he hadn't had the chance to meet yet due to his own doing – that would break him.

"There's nothing to deserve or forgive, Draco," Harry said and suddenly a hand was squeezing Draco's tightly; the familiarity of it making his eyes sting with hot tears.

He hadn't realised just how much he had been missing Harry's touch until he felt his hand on him.

"I'm not going to keep your son away from you, Draco. I've been an idiot this past month. I should have come to visit you in the hospital and shouldn't have been such a bloody coward," Harry went on; his eyes swirling with so many emotions, it was difficult for Draco to detangle them and understand them. "I – I shouldn't have let my insecurities get the best of me. Can you forgive me?"

Draco chuckled watery and feeling brave, he turned around his hand and gripped Harry's hand tightly in his. "I thought you said there's nothing to forgive?" he remarked, smiling weakly.

He hadn't been happy with Harry's absence, but … He couldn't blame him either. Especially not now, when he knew what had been going through Harry's mind at the time.

Harry returned his weak smile, sniffling a bit. "We're both idiots," he groaned, shaking his head.

Gathering his courage once more, Draco took a deep breath and asked hesitatingly, "So, do you – do we still have a future? Together?"

Treacherous hope was growing inside of him, bolstered by Harry's continued touch, and he tried to squash it down. Harry agreeing to let him see his son didn't mean he saw a future for them still. He might decide that after everything, it would be easier if they remained parted. His heart clenched painfully at that thought and he feared he was going to be sick.

"I – I need a bit more time to – get used to this, us again," Harry said slowly, lifting their hands briefly up in the air. "I still – there are still moments when I remember one of the things you said and – I need some time to get past that. But I'd like to start over again."

"Start over?" Draco repeated dazed. _Harry isn't saying no_. He wasn't rejecting him. Those thoughts kept bouncing through his mind, causing the hope to grow bigger, warming him from the inside.

The dark haired man smiled faintly. "Yeah, I want – I'd like to start over again, the two of us going on dates." He flushed slightly, looking embarrassed.

"I'd like that," Draco whispered and when their eyes met and Draco felt that _sense_ of connection again that he had been missing for so long, he knew.

They were going to get through this. Slowly, but surely. They weren't going to let the band win.

"I'd like that too," Harry smiled; the first real, genuine smile in – _in months perhaps_. Harry squeezed his hand gently and looked nervous suddenly. "Do you want to – meet your son now?"

"Yes!" Draco blurted out before he could stop himself and he felt his cheeks pink when green eyes shimmered in response. He cleared his throat. "Yes, I'd love that, please."

"All right, I'll go get him. It's nearly time for him to eat anyway," Harry said lightly and gently slipped his hand out of Draco's hold. He offered another smile before he disappeared out of the room.

_He was going to meet his son._

For the first time, he would see with his own eyes how his son looked like. Did he have blond hair or black? Draco's eyes or that gorgeous green of Harry's? Who did he resemble the most? Those questions and more filled his mind and he was beyond eager to get an answer to all of them.

Footsteps descending the staircase had his head shooting up and he felt nervous all of a sudden, rubbing his clammy hands over his thighs. Oh Merlin, what if he dropped him? What if his son would start crying? What if he didn't know how to hold him properly? Panic was steadily rising, replacing the hopeful butterflies which had taken residence in his stomach, and his fingers tensed like claws around his knees.

Then Harry appeared in the doorway and in his arms –

_Their son._

With a smile Harry approached him and carefully lowered their baby in Draco's arms, which had come up in the air automatically at the sight of his child approaching. Gently Harry adjusted his hold a bit and then –

Then Draco was holding their son for the first time, feeling the warm weight settle against his chest. He looked down, seeing a mop of messy, black hair first and then the baby smacked his pouty lips together in a yawn before his eyes slid open sleepily.

Revealing grey eyes with a greenish hue around his pupils.

His vision blurred and for a moment he didn't know what had caused that, why he suddenly had trouble seeing his son properly. Two thin trails of hot wetness burned down his cheeks and he blinked, realising that he was crying.

"He's – he's beautiful, Harry," he spoke up, voice cracking as he watched enraptured through a sheen of tears how their baby clenched his little fists and opened his mouth in another yawn; his eyes rolling around the room before they settled somewhere on Draco's face. He smiled waveringly, bending his head to press a soft kiss on their son's forehead, inhaling his comforting baby scent. "Hey there, I'm your papa."

Harry knelt down in front of them, bringing his hand up to caress the soft, black hair of their baby. "He is, isn't he?" he smiled tenderly. "Takes after his papa."

"What is – what is his name?"

"Connor Scorpius."

Draco looked up in shock, staring dumbstruck at the younger man. "You kept - "

"He's your son too, Draco. And well, it's a better name than Hyperion," Harry chuckled; his eyes gleaming with amusement when he met grey eyes.

"Nothing wrong with Hyperion," Draco muttered, but his attention was already captured again by Connor, who was kicking his little, sock clad feet impatiently against Draco's arm.

"He's getting hungry," Harry remarked amused and rose up. "I'm going to prepare his bottle. You want to feed him?"

"Yes, I'd really like that," Draco said softly and smiled when Connor released an impatient huff.

As Harry went to the kitchen to warm a bottle of milk, Draco pressed another kiss on Connor's forehead and whispered, "I'm going to make everything right again, I promise." A feeling of fierce love swept over him and he carefully pressed Connor closer to his chest. This was his son, his child, and he was going to do everything in his power to protect him.

He had missed his first kick when he was still in the womb, had missed his birth, his first cry, his first smile, but he swore to himself he would never miss another moment in his son's life again.

He smiled, closing his eyes for a moment, ignoring the tears dripping down his cheeks. "I love you, sweetheart. You have no idea how much I love you."

And no matter how long it would take, he would get his family back – both Harry and Connor.

* * *

They took it slow.

They met up a couple of times a week, not for dates - yet – but to talk and spend time with each other, getting used to each other's presence again after such a long time. Draco bonded with his son; his awkwardness around the little boy disappearing gradually as he learnt how to handle him.

The first time Harry laughed in his presence again was when Draco had to change Connor's diaper.

_Draco wrinkled his nose in disgust at the foul smell wafting in his face when he placed Connor on the changing mat. "You're sure you don't want to hire a house elf to help you?" he suggested, grimacing and holding his breath when he unbuttoned the sky blue onesie._

" _Are you trying to escape your fatherly duties, Draco?" Harry piped up, leaning against the doorjamb of the nursery with his arms crossed. His eyes shone with glee and a smirk was playing around the corners of his mouth._

" _Oh Merlin!" Draco recoiled when he opened the soiled diaper and gagged, looking away for a brief moment._

_On the table Connor grumbled and when Draco turned back to face him, the little boy was kicking his legs in the air while he waved his arms around, occasionally thumping them against the mat._

" _How can so much mess come out of something so cute?" Draco groaned as he set about cleaning Connor's bum and putting a new diaper on him. "Oh, this is just disgusting."_

_Suddenly Harry's laughter ran through the room, bright and clear, and the blond man glanced at him shocked as the other man threw his head back. He couldn't even be mad at Harry for laughing at his misery – he had missed the sound of his laughter way too much to be annoyed by it now._

_It was enough to make the horrible, foul task of changing his son's diaper more bearable._

When Harry was at work, Connor stayed at Malfoy Manor with either Draco taking care of him or his grandparents when Draco had orders he couldn't push back. Draco had been confused at first, wondering where Connor had stayed before. Harry had admitted that the Weasleys had babysat before.

" _Didn't – didn't my mother offer to babysit him?" Draco questioned after an awkward pause. He was sitting in Harry's kitchen, giving Connor his bottle of milk while Harry was preparing some quick lunch for the both of them. They would go to the park next with Connor to get some fresh air now that the weather was becoming milder._

_The knife halted right above the tomato it planned to cut in and Harry rolled his shoulders; a grimace painting his mouth when he quickly glanced at the blond man. "She offered," he divulged begrudgingly and hesitated. "But I declined."_

" _Why?" Draco asked cautiously, tipping the bottle a bit so that Connor could drink the last bit of milk._

" _Because I didn't want you to meet your son like that. It seemed – impersonal."_

" _Oh." Draco looked down, watching how Connor greedily sucked on the bottle's teat. He tried to imagine how he would have felt like if he had come downstairs one morning to suddenly find a baby resting in mother's arms. He would have … been quite hurt if he had to be honest. Like it hadn't been worth it to introduce him properly to his son._

Things between them were uncomfortable at first as they both tried to regain their footing after everything that had happened between them. There would be days when Harry would flinch back when Draco absently reached out to touch him and days when Draco felt so crippled with guilt that he couldn't look at either Harry or Connor, feeling like he didn't deserve them.

They wrestled themselves through it, though. Neither of them wanted to give up on them, even when the memories of those days rose their ugly heads and hung like a dark cloud between them for a while before they talked about it.

Mainly thanks to Harry and Shacklebolt's influence as the minister, the case of the Band of the Rising Phoenix was quickly brought to trial. It had been decided it would be a private one, to keep the press out and prevent the band from potentially gaining sympathy.

Draco had been indecisive at first, not able to decide whether he felt ready to face them in court or not. The thought of being near them, the people who had stolen his memories, cursed him, took his family from him, and tortured him with the intention of killing him … It had been enough to have him wake up several nights in a row, soaked with sweat; his heart hammering in his chest. Fear had him almost refuse attending the trial, but in the end he had given in. He needed the closure of knowing they were going to be punished for their crimes.

Harry remained at his side the whole time; a steadfast presence which grounded the grey eyed man and offered a sense of safety. When eyes full of hatred stared at him and mouths sneeringly mouthed threats at him, he knew he could turn his head, look at Harry and meet his reassuring smile. He knew he would feel Harry reaching out with his hand and entangling their fingers together, comforting him. He knew he could trust on those little gestures to get him through the trial. He could trust Harry to be there for him, in spite of everything which had occurred.

The trial ended up taking three whole weeks. Despite the abundance of evidence and the testimonies of several members themselves and a couple of the victims – including Draco – the lawyers appointed to the band members tried to argue that they didn't deserve a severe punishment.

"They have suffered due to the loss of their loves ones and their grief made them act irrational," one of the lawyers spoke, throwing a venomous look at Draco.

It didn't matter in the end, though. No matter what kind of excuses the lawyers came up with, the court was immitigable: every member was sentenced to life in Azkaban with the added order of their wands being snapped.

They would never be able to hurt Draco or any one of his loved ones again. It was enough to have him collapse in relief on his seat in the courtroom; Harry's arm resting heavily, but wanted around his shoulders.

They were safe.

* * *

Two months after their reconciliation, Harry took Draco out on their first official date. Narcissa had eagerly agreed to babysit Connor for the day and even Lucius looked content at the thought of spending time with his grandson.

They went flying for hours, racing each other and playing Seeker games as the sun shone warmly above them. They shared lunch and dinner and their laughter was no longer a rare occurrence.

Draco had left it up to Harry to decide when to take their relationship further. The younger man had asked him for time and he had respected that wish, even if it had itched several times to ask him on a date. He was beyond giddy to have Harry initiating the next step; certainly they were just dates now and their relationship wasn't yet like it had been before, but …

They were making progress. It didn't matter to Draco how many dates it would take before they would take the next step; he was just happy that he had got this chance.

It was more than he thought he would have after gaining his memories back.

They shared their first kiss in nearly a year during the second date, in which Draco took Harry and Connor to the magical zoo in London. Right in front of the Manticore habitat, shielded with strong wards to prevent the animals from escaping, while Connor watched enraptured how a Manticore cub was playing with his sibling, Draco and Harry turned their heads around at the same moment and stared at each other.

For a moment it seemed like the both of them were holding their breath and it was as if they were the only two in the world; Draco's attention wholly focused on the dark haired man in front of him. Everything else disappeared from his radar; the background noise of other people talking to each other becoming nothing but a distant buzz.

He licked his lips, saw Harry parting his own in his response, and asked, voice rougher than he expected, "Can I – May I kiss you?"

A smile bloomed open on Harry's face and he took a step closer, tilting his head to the left. "I thought you'd never ask," he whispered and then their lips touched.

It was better than Draco remembered it being; the fireworks more intense than the first kiss they had shared years ago – if that was even possible. His hand curled around Harry's neck as he deepened the kiss and not even the scandalized gasp of a mother nearby was enough to make him stop.

Only when his lungs burnt and screamed for air and his mind gained that pleasant light-headedness he had always associated with kissing Harry, did he pull back with a gasp. He met glittering green eyes, pupils definitely bigger than they had been before, and breathed out, feeling like his systems needed to restart.

"Definitely worth the wait," Harry said roughly and let out a breathless chuckle.

Draco smiled back, pressing another soft kiss on slightly swollen lips, before he turned back around in time to see the Manticore cubs scampering off towards their mother. As he followed Harry, who was pushing Connor in his stroller, towards the next animal exhibit, happiness settled like a purring, content cat in his chest.

Yes, they were getting there; one step at a time.

* * *

Draco's birthday took place on a Tuesday this year. His friends and family all took off earlier from work to celebrate it in the afternoon. Pansy greeted him with a kiss on the cheek and a grin; Blaise clapped his back; Aunt Andromeda hugged him and pressed a cool kiss on his forehead. Teddy gave him an enthusiastic hug and a bright grin.

A week after he had talked with Harry, he had gone to apologise for his absence to Aunt Andromeda. She had taken it in stride once she heard what had happened and had confided in him that she had told Teddy his cousin had fallen sick to explain his sudden absence. As far as Teddy was concerned, his uncle had been ill in bed for several months and he had expressed his worry about it, handing over several drawings he had made for Draco to "help him get better!"

The drawings had got their own place on the wall in Draco's bedroom, as a reminder that even after all the shit that had happened, he still had his family.

A harried and flushed looking Harry arrived as last one, with a sleeping Connor in his carrier. The five month old had a cherry red nose and dark pinkish cheeks as if he had spent some time crying before falling asleep.

"He was being fussy," Harry explained his absence, blushing as he carefully lowered the carrier on the table the house elves had placed in the garden for this occasion.

"You're here now," Mother smiled, coming over to look at her grandson.

"Thanks for coming," Draco murmured, coming to a halt next to Harry. He felt inexplicably nervous and hid his trembling hands behind his back.

The dark haired man turned to face him and smiled, reaching out to squeeze his left shoulder gently. "Why wouldn't I?" he asked rhetorically before kissing Draco on his mouth in full view of everyone.

Draco felt his cheeks warm, but kissed back eagerly; something settled in his chest as if Harry's bold declaration of their new relationship had given him that last shred of confidence that they would work out that he had been missing until now.

When he pulled back and looked across Harry's shoulder, he saw Pansy sticking up her thumb approvingly in the air and he rolled his eyes, hiding his smile when she smirked.

Draco received many great gifts, like several rare potions books of his father and Blaise, but the award of bearer of the best gift definitely went to Harry. Not only had the man given him some valuable, rare stones which he could use in his potions, and which were difficult to find – "Garin helped me find some of them," Harry explained with a shrug – but his second present contained –

A catalogue of houses on sale.

As Draco stared at the book speechlessly, Harry shifted his foot and cleared his throat, sounding embarrassed when he asked, "I know we haven't talked about this before, but – do you want to live together? We can go look for houses; I already put a check mark next to the ones I think would be good, but of course it's your decision as well and – "

Draco cut off his babbling with a firm kiss, feeling overwhelmed by the pure love he felt for this man. This man, who despite having been insulted and hurt, who had reasons to reject Draco, had still given him a chance. This man, who had given him a family of his own.

This man, who he would love for as long as he lived – and beyond that.

Harry, who was everything to him.

"Yes, I want to live with you," he whispered against Harry's parted lips and warmth spread out inside of him when glittering green eyes met his.

Then they were hugging, sharing a couple of more kisses, while their family and friends cheered.

He couldn't have imagined a better birthday than this one.

* * *

They moved into their new house – a bit bigger than their previous one – in August as the blistering sun made them sweat even with Cooling Charms and had them panting on the couch during the evening when they were finally done giving everything its rightful place.

Harry turned to face him, linking their pinkies together, and smiled, a bit tired. "Welcome home," he murmured as Connor laid on his playmat, babbling to himself.

The seven month old baby had been crawling around on his playmat for a while, but was now sitting down, attempting to build a tower out of his multicoloured blocks. They lit up when he touched them and it elicited a shriek of excitement every time.

Draco looked at his son, then at Harry and smiled, feeling the love of his family surrounding him like a blanket. "Yeah, welcome home," he mumbled and they shared a kiss on their new couch.

Everything was slowly falling into its place.

* * *

There were still some difficult moments. Not everything could be fixed instantly, not even magic could do that. The both of them still had the occasional nightmare; Draco had woken up a couple of times already to see Harry sitting up straight in bed, staring blankly into the darkness. The hollow look on his face was enough to make Draco's heart clench in pain and guilt and the rest of a night like that was spent in each other's arms, not sleeping, but grounding themselves with each other's presence.

Draco's nightmares had the same reoccurring theme: losing Harry and Connor. Sometimes through an attack, an accident, or through his own doing, but the nightmares ended the same way every time: he lost them. Whenever he woke up, soaked in sweat, from a nightmare like that, he slipped out of bed and spent some time in Connor's room, watching over his sleeping son, reassuring himself that everything was fine. Then he went back to his own bedroom, the room he shared with Harry, and carefully lowered himself back into their bed, gazing at Harry's sleeping form until his eyes grew too heavy and sleep claimed him once more.

They didn't talk about Astoria. Draco had asked about her once, during a windy October evening, when Weasley and Granger had come over to share dinner with them.

Harry had stiffened, hunched over his plate, as his gaze bored holes into it. Weasley had sighed, looking both uncomfortable and chagrined.

"She isn't in Europe anymore," he had admitted with a grimace, stabbing his fork through a steamed carrot viciously. "The Spanish Aurors managed to track her down, but before they could take her in for questioning, she was gone. Nothing indicates she's still in Europe."

"Does this mean she was associated with the band?" Granger had questioned with a heavy frown; his fingers tightening around her glass of water.

"Well, it doesn't look exactly good for her that she doesn't show her face in Great Britain anymore," Weasley had retorted dryly, rolling his shoulders. "I doubt we'll ever find out the truth, though. Whatever she was involved in, she took that information with her when she left."

Knowing her, she wouldn't return to England for a long time, if ever. Had she been involved in the band? Had she been part of stealing his memories and putting the curse on him? Or had it been merely coincidence, had she taken advantage of the fact that Draco had declared himself a free man after the attack?

Draco didn't know and he probably wouldn't ever know the truth unless they managed to find her. He wasn't eager to see her again, though. Part of the band or not, she had been one of the reasons why he had nearly ruined his relationship with Harry forever. He had no desire to see or speak to her ever again.

When they had made love that night, Harry's movements had been rather frantic, his kisses and bites tasting of despair, as if he was afraid that Draco would disappear if he didn't kiss him harder, if his fingers didn't dig down in Draco's muscles, if he didn't grasp him tightly enough against his body.

"I'm not leaving," Draco had murmured afterwards, when Harry had laid panting next to him.

Harry had breathed out slowly; his eyes trained on the ceiling before they had slipped close and a sigh had escaped him. "I know."

Draco had kissed his sweaty temple and had tightened his grip. There wasn't more that he could do, but prove that he meant it.

They never talked about Astoria again after that.

* * *

The diamond glittered in the sunlight, casting a hue of brilliant colours around it. It was set in a thick, silver band; on the inside of it, the symbol of eternity had been carefully etched into the metal.

Grey eyes studied the ring intently, holding it up in the light so that it shone even brighter.

Today it was exactly a year since they had got together for the second time. The band had tried to pry them apart and had nearly succeeded, but they had fought for each other.

Now here they were: more in love than ever before.

The past year hadn't been easy with the nightmares, the hurt, the rebuilding of the trust between them. They had managed to get past them, though. They were getting past their guilt, reminding each other daily that they loved each other. Their love had been strong enough to survive despite the hurdles it had gone through.

He had known it before, but this had just solidified his belief: what he had with Harry was everything; it was forever. They had rebuilt their relationship from the scraps it had been ripped into and they had come out stronger than ever before.

"Draco? Are you coming down? Connor is becoming impatient," Harry called from downstairs.

They would be going to the park to have a picnic there and have fun with their son. Tonight Connor would be having a sleep over at his grandparents' manor, while his parents would go out to celebrate their one year anniversary.

Tonight would also be the evening Draco would go down on one knee once more and ask Harry to marry him. Hopefully Harry's answer would be the same as the first time.

Judging by the fact that he had kept Draco's bracelet and engagement ring, however, Draco had a good feeling about it.

"Draco?"

"Yes, I'm coming!" he called back and after casting another glance at the diamond ring, he carefully returned it to its box and hid it in one of the drawers of his desk, where it would wait until tonight.

Then he went downstairs, ready to spend another day with his lover and his son.

Harry quirked an eyebrow at seeing Draco's small smile and peered at him suspiciously. "What are you thinking about?"

"Just how much I love you," Draco smiled wider and kissed Harry swiftly on his mouth, before bending down and sweeping Connor off the floor, placing him on his hip, while the boy shrieked and laughed, gripping Draco's shirt between his chubby fingers.

Harry's suspicious frown melted into a soft smile and he squeezed Draco's arm softly. "I love you too. Now come on, before the good spots are taken!"

Yes, what he had with Harry was everything. They had got there, despite the odds.

He couldn't wait to spend the rest of forever with him. This time, everything would be all right.

* * *

(Harry did end up saying yes. Draco would deny it for the rest of his life, but Harry's enthusiastic reply had some tears slipping down his cheeks. That didn't matter, though, when his ring was back around Harry's finger.

Where it belonged and would soon be joined by their wedding rings.

This time nothing would stop them.)

**The End**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN2: So we've finally reached the end of this story. This was supposed to be just a oneshot, but turned out quite a bit longer than I anticipated ... I hope you liked reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> I also hope that you liked how I wrote the relationship between Draco and Harry. I know a lot of you were worried about how they would manage to resolve things between them and I hope I did them justice. It definitely wasn't an easy chapter to write - the most difficult one of them all, actually, but I hope I didn't screw up too badly.
> 
> For the last time: please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> I hope to see you all back in my future stories!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa

**Author's Note:**

> AN2: Yeah, don't expect this fic to be fluffy. I promise a happy ending, but we have to wade through some angst before we can get to that. Also, yes, the whole amnesia idea has been done a lot by now, but I figured I'd give it a try now.
> 
> A note: I don't have any idea yet how long this fic is going to be. Just expect chapters of around 4K LOL
> 
> Please leave your thoughts behind in a review; should you spot any mistakes, please point them out to me.
> 
> See you all in the next chapter!
> 
> Cuddles
> 
> Melissa


End file.
